Malec Week 2015
by TMIFandoms
Summary: A selection of 7 prompts off Tumblr all centred around Malec for your reading pleasure! Daily updates 1st August through 7th August. Rated M for day 5.
1. Day 1: Favourite Book Scene Day

**A/N**

 **So. It's Malec Appreciation Week. Woot woot! I got all my prompts of Tumblr, both official MA week prompts and any others I'm incorporating. I'm pretty sure that today isn't technically supposed to be a piece of writing, just a scene, but I couldn't resist extending it. It turned out a lot longer than I expected. Without further ado, here is my (possibly lame-ass) attempt at the Malec kiss scene. You know. That one.**

 **In the Accords Hall.**

 **Yeah. Enjoy!**

 **Cassie XD**

* * *

 _"But—" Maia, still looking over at Alec and Magnus, broke off and raised her eyebrows. Simon turned to see what she was looking at – and stared._

 _Alec had his arms around Magnus and was kissing him full on the mouth. Magnus, who appeared to be in a state of shock, stood frozen. Several groups of people – Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike – were staring and whispering. Glancing to the side, Simon saw the Lightwoods, their eyes wide, gaping at the display. Maryse had her hand over her mouth._

 _Maia looked perplexed. "Wait a second," she said. "Do we all have to do that, too?"_

 _Malec Accords Hall Kiss ~ City of Glass, pg 387_

* * *

Alec hadn't been able to stop thinking about the conversation he'd had with Magnus in the alleyway amongst all those demons. Magnus had told him he loved him. Of all the things Alec had expected him to say, that hadn't been it. In many ways, it was so much simpler than the scenarios he'd been expecting. And yet in others, it was ten times more complicated.

But Alec had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

Magnus stood a little apart from the crowd, dressed in a shockingly-plain ensemble consisting of a long black coat buttoned up to his neck and somber pants. There wasn't a speck of glitter in sight, and Alec noted the distinct lack of eyeliner.

He pushed through the crowd, momentarily losing sight of Magnus as the people swallowed him. Glancing up towards the dais where Clary sat, he caught her looking at him. She smiled a little, and he returned it. When had he come to actually like Clary? Was it after Magnus had healed him from that fight with the Greater Demon? After his (somewhat disastrous) first date with Magnus?

But as Magnus came into view again, thoughts of the red-headed girl raised like a mundane flew from his mind. Magnus had his eyes a little glazed over, not really taking in the scene around him. Alec stepped on a gruff-looking werewolf's foot in his haste to get to Magnus, and got a fierce growl in return.

"Magnus," he called out.

Magnus looked up, surprise flashing across his face. "Alec?"

"Hi." He stopped a foot or so away from him. The self-consciousness threatened to rise within him under Magnus' stare, but he forced it down. He didn't have time for embarrassment.

"What are you doing?" Magnus asked, and flicked his eyes around the hall. "Your parents are right over there."

"I know. I wanted to ask whether you'd fight with me."

Magnus looked at him as though he'd really lost his mind. "What?"

The warnings signs of embarrassment began to flash, but, once again, Alec focused on what he wanted. That was far more important. When Clary had drawn that rune earlier to show everyone who they loved most in the world... That had made up his mind for him. He didn't see the point in denying it any longer. Not to himself or anyone else. Not when it was literally staring him in the face.

"In the battle," Alec clarified. "Would you be my partner?"

"You want to fight with me?" Magnus confirmed, speaking slowly.

"Yes."

Magnus inclined his head. "Absolutely."

Alec realised that he hadn't really thought this far ahead. He hadn't really expected Magnus to say yes. He felt his face light up. "Can I Mark you?"

A flicker of amusement crossed Magnus' face. "I believe that is the general idea. Have you got a stele?"

Alec pulled the instrument out from his weapons belt and held it in his palm for a moment. Magnus held out his hand; Alec took it, all too aware of what he was doing, and touched the tip of his stele to the smooth, unmarked skin. His hair fell over his face as he bent his head, concentrating on drawing it properly. Alec understood why Clary had called it the Alliance rune. It looked like a knot, curling in on itself, binding, except it seemed incomplete. It needed a pair.

That thought filled Alec's stomach with a very warm feeling.

"There. Done." Alec looked up from Magnus' hand, and slid his stele away in his belt, forgetting that Magnus had to Mark him, too. Magnus gave him one of his beautiful smiles, but this one seemed a little sad.

Alec let go of his hand, perhaps a little later than necessary, and felt a sudden surge of confidence fill him at the look Magnus was giving him. Those green-gold irises and enchanting cat-like pupils staring at him with such emotion did him in. He knew what he felt for Magnus Bane, even if he hadn't been brave enough to say it yet, even to himself.

He didn't give himself time to second-guess what he was doing. Instead, he took a tiny step forwards, threw his arms around Magnus' neck, and kissed him, unreservedly, full on the mouth. Magnus seemed to freeze in shock beneath him, but Alec wasn't deterred.

Unaware of the whispers around them, Alec didn't let Magnus go. Slowly, Magnus' hands came up, one resting on Alec's hip, the other cupping the back of his arm, and he kissed him back. Alec couldn't help but smile.

He broke away from Magnus' lips a moment later. A light blush rose up his neck, covering his cheeks, but he didn't care. They didn't break their gaze. Alec tuned out the staring and the murmurs around them, and, though he could quite clearly see Maryse standing with her hand over her mouth, he ignored his family.

"That was unexpected," Magnus murmured, a smile tugging at his lips, "though not unwelcome."

Alec shrugged. "I made a promise."

"Quite a way to keep it. A simple introduction would have sufficed." But Magnus' tone was playful. Alec could tell that he preferred his chosen method.

Alec returned his smile with a half-wry, half-pleased one of his own. "Since when do we ever do things like this simply?"


	2. Day 2: Into the Future Day

**A/N**

 **Just so you know, I considered doing something full of angst and pain and tears. I decided that Malec week is supposed to be happy. Count your blessings that you've ended up with fluff and laughs. I couldn't decide between Jealous!Magnus and Drunk!Alec so you've kind of got both.**

* * *

As Magnus had promised, that day so very long ago when a blue-eyed Shadowhunter and his friends had waltzed into his apartment, there were no vampires at his party. The werewolves had begun bad rock music on his make-shift stage, and the fey seemed to enjoy leaving fairy dust all over the carpet. Honestly, he was surprised any of the fey had turned up, after all that had happened during the Dark War.

At least, though, the prima-donna vampires had stayed away.

Magnus felt eyes on him from across the room. He glanced up from his half-hearted conversation with Maia Roberts and caught his boyfriend's gaze. He shot Alec a flirtatious smirk. Alec, to his surprise, didn't blush—he merely sent him a lopsided grin, looked down, and took another swig of whatever bright purple drink he'd found, not pausing in his conversation with his sister, who was giggling without any shame.

"Oh, Angel," huffed an arrogant voice to Magnus' left. "Please tell me Alec isn't drunk."

Magnus turned around to glare at the blond Shadowhunter. Jace pulled Clary closer and sighed in despair. Magnus contemplated the advantages of turning him into a porcupine against the ultimate disadvantage of Alec being annoyed with him.

But Alec being annoyed with him meant no hot after-party sex, so, sadly, Herondale had to stay human. For the moment.

"He's not drunk. Besides, you've never been drunk, Nephilim?" Magnus snapped. "I seem to remember a rather embarrassing story about you streaking down the road wearing antlers."

Jace shrugged, and grinned apologetically. "Yeah, but if Alec did that he'd never look at anyone ever again. Besides, Alec is a really annoying drunk."

Maybe it really would be better for everyone if Magnus turned Jace into a porcupine. Or a duck. The irony of that idea wasn't lost on Magnus, so he filed the idea away for future blackmail material. God knew he'd probably need it. Jace was nothing but trouble.

To his relief, Clary dragged Jace away, and Magnus was left to listen to the conversation around him while his thoughts centred on Alec—as per usual. The crowd around the bar where Alec had been sitting obscured Magnus' view of him, but he looked over anyway, scanning for those enchanting blue eyes of his.

When the sea of people parted at just the right angle for Magnus to catch a flash of Alec, leaning against the bar with Isabelle (who did look drunk), a dark look covered his face. That werewolf stood far too close, and if his hand strayed any nearer to Alec's ass then Magnus swore he would—

The werewolf put the noose around his own neck: the back of his hand brushed against Alec's backside. The angle made it clear that it was not an accidental touch.

"Excuse me," Magnus said, eyes not straying from the scene playing out in front of him. He strode towards Alec as the werewolf leant in and said something to Alec and Isabelle. His eyes lingered on Alec far too long.

The flashing disco lights around the place made Isabelle's dress look like water—all translucent and shimmering and reflective and very, very short. The black boots curling up her legs complimented it well, Magnus thought.

"Alexander," Magnus said loudly as he approached the siblings. "I haven't seen you all day. You're not allowed to sit there and look at me and not come talk to me."

He shot the werewolf a fierce glare that he hoped seemed surreptitious but also forceful. If the full force of his angry cat eyes didn't get the idea across, he felt sure that the crackling blue sparks that leapt between his fingers would do the job.

Alec gave him a funny look, and tilted his head a little to one side. "You're pretty."

Magnus raised his eyebrows. Maybe Jace had been right, he admitted with great reluctance. Alec did appear to be drunk. "Thank you, darling. You look ravishing yourself."

And, frankly, he did. Either Isabelle had imposed her fashion advice on her poor brother, or, after three years, Magnus' continual comments had begun to give Alec an idea of which clothes made him look even more gorgeous than normal, and Alec had decided that, once in a blue moon, he'd indulge the warlock.

Those jeans... Magnus wished he could take a picture of how they hugged Alec's ass and pin it to his bedroom wall. Maybe he had a slight obsession with Alec's backside. And his shoulders. His shoulders under some of his jackets - especially the one he had on at the moment - were to die for. And those abs. He couldn't leave out his abs. And his soulful blue eyes, defined cheekbones, soft eyelashes...

And, well, really, everything.

Isabelle, without warning, bent over and giggled...and giggled...and giggled. Mystified, Magnus stared at her, while Alec continued to stare at him as though he were an entrancing enigma that needed solving by the end of the night.

"Izzy," came Simon's voice. "What— Jesus. What the—" Simon caught her by her shoulders as she fell sideways onto him, still giggling.

Magnus shot him a pained smile. "Thank you."

Simon pulled a face. His clothes were not only entirely inappropriate for one of the High Warlock of Brooklyn's parties, but his t-shirt also had one of those awful nerd captions about intellectual badasses. "Can you, like, shut down this thing now?"

Magnus opened his mouth to say that the party had barely begun, when a hand grabbed his bright red jacket. He looked down at Alec, who seemed to be sliding further and further down. Alec stared at him with imploring eyes, and nodded vigorously.

"What?" Magnus asked, frowning in confusion.

"I don't want to be at this party any more." Alec's grip shifted from his jacket to his tank-top. "I want to go. Can we go? Please please please?"

Magnus took Alec's hand and unwrapped his fingers, before kissing the back of it. "Alec, of course you can go. When have I ever had a problem with you going before my parties are over?" He smiled wryly. "When have you ever asked before leaving to kidnap my cat?"

Alec seemed to be having trouble processing Magnus' words. Possibly Magnus had overestimated how much he could say at a time to a drunk person. And possibly Alec was more drunk than Magnus had realised.

Magnus wrapped an arm around Alec's waist to pull him up. At least he didn't reek of alcohol. He clapped his hands together. "Party's over, everyone!" he said, flicking his fingers towards the door. "Time to go!"

Guests, including Alec's trouble-making friends, began to filter through the apartment to the door. Magnus watched them go, scanning for any lingering in the corners. Once satisfied that they'd gone, he shut the front door with a bang, and turned back to Alec.

Alec looked like he'd been bewitched; like Magnus was some kind of dream that would disperse and disappear unless he kept watching it. "Magnus?"

Magnus' lips twitched upwards in amusement. "Yes?"

"You're really pretty. Reeeeally pretty."

Magnus let out a laugh. "Come on. You're going to regret this in the morning."

He tugged Alec towards his bedroom, half worried that he'd fall over on the way there. Alec stumbled in, and fell onto the bed. He lay still for a minute, before rolling onto his back, eyes trained on Magnus.

Magnus sat down next to him. He looked so adorable, black hair rumpled and blue eyes shining, that Magnus couldn't resist leaning down to kiss him.

"Why did you stop?" Alec asked when Magnus pulled away.

"I'm not having sex with you when you're drunk," Magnus said firmly. He reached down to pull off Alec's boots—he didn't want grime all over his beautiful bed.

"Why?"

"Because you won't remember anything in the morning, and I pride myself on being memorable." Honestly, had Alec worn the same boots demon-hunting as he had to Magnus' party? Was that dried ichor on the soles? Did he need to drag the man out shopping to buy a new pair of shoes?

"Magnus?"

The warlock repressed a sigh. If Alec started to ask him lots of stupid drunk questions, he'd magic him to sleep, no matter how much he loved him. "Yes?"

"Do you hate me?"

Magnus' eyes widened in shock, and he searched Alec's face for clues as to where that had come from. "Of course not!" He laid long, bejewelled fingers along one pale cheek and ran his thumb over the defined cheekbone. "Alec, I love you. Why would you ask me that?"

Alec's nose scrunched up. "'S not what I meant. The holes. You don't like the holes."

Magnus dropped his hand and twined his fingers through Alec's. "Alec, what in the world—"

"Clothes." Alec's eyes unfocused and he stared into space. "Holes in clothes."

"Oh." Comprehension dawned on Magnus. "As you won't remember this conversation by tomorrow, I may as well admit it. I love your awful sweatshirts, holes and all."

Magnus wondered whether that was too complicated for Alec to be able to process in his very inebriated state, but Alec beamed. "Really?"

He grinned. "Really."

Alec scooted towards Magnus and crawled into his lap, straddling his hips. His hands slid to the warlock's hair, which was down. Magnus would have been lying if he said he didn't like the feeling of Alec playing with his hair.

"Magnus?"

He ran his fingertips over Alec's lips and smiled fondly. "Yes, Alec?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Alec paused. "Magnus?"

Magnus didn't reply—he merely quirked an eyebrow.

"Can I kiss you?"

He didn't reply to that, either. Mostly because Alec hadn't waited for a reply; he'd just surged too far forward, kissed Magnus forcefully and knocked them both backwards in the process. Magnus smiled into their kiss, and held his Shadowhunter close.

* * *

When Alec awoke the following morning, it was with a pounding headache and a vague recollection of the previous night. He remembered being out all day, having left Magnus early in the morning after a call from Jace, he remembered drinking with Isabelle, and he—

Alec frowned. That couldn't be right.

He could feel Magnus behind him, his warm breath hitting his neck, arm slung around his waist, holding him close, curled around him. Magnus often did that, Alec had noticed. Curl around him in bed, or when they were snuggled up on the couch. It was a strangely vulnerable thing for Magnus, and one which Alec found incredibly endearing.

"How much does your pretty little head hurt?" Magnus murmured.

Alec winced at the resulting throb. "A lot."

"Hm. Want coffee?"

Alec turned over so they were lying face-to-face. "That would be amazing. But I need to ask you something."

Magnus nodded.

"Did you admit last night that you like my sweaters?"

The split second of hesitation gave it away. Alec grinned victoriously.

"You're never letting this go, are you?" Magnus grumbled, shifting towards the edge of the bed.

Alec smirked. "Nope. And where are you going?"

"To make coffee."

Alec grabbed Magnus' arm. "Nuh-uh. I'm not done cuddling you yet. Besides, when do you make coffee? You summon coffee."

Magnus practically melted back into Alec's arms at the word 'cuddle', as Alec knew he would. He ignored the coffee comment. Alec didn't mind.

His head pounded, interrupting the comfort and contentment Alec felt wrapped up in bed with his warlock. He scowled.

"Magnus?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Remind me never to get drunk again."

Magnus laughed. "Why ever would I do that? You're an adorable drunk."

Alec didn't get a chance to reply, because his lips were suddenly busy with something far more interesting than talking, and Magnus was intent on getting that hot after-party sex he'd missed out on the previous night.


	3. Day 3: AU Settings Day

Alexander Lightwood was in a foul mood. He felt almost certain that his day couldn't get any worse. Then again, he wasn't exactly sure anything could make it better, either. Sure, winning the lottery would have been nice, but he didn't play.

The day had started off just fine. He'd woken up on time, found a shirt to wear that wasn't creased, and even managed to avoid any awkward conversations with his roommate-come-brother who'd arrived back the previous night late with his red-headed co-worker. Alec had been utterly astounded to hear her refuse to come in. Since when did girls not throw themselves at Jace?

It was then that things had started to go wrong. Jace, as per usual on a Monday morning, had a horrific hangover. Alec had spent most of the previous night studying, but Jace would be Jace. He'd spent about half an hour trying to call the girl (Alec managed to find out that her name was Clary) before giving up and throwing his phone on the floor, smashing not only his cell but also chipping the corner of one of the cheap tiles. Their landlord would be all too willing to charge them an extortionate amount for that.

By this time, after having an argument with Jace, he was late. Then he'd walked out of their apartment to find that it was pouring with rain. Alec had scowled up at the sky, cursing the world, and ran to work. He arrived at the coffee shop looking like a drowned rat. A fact which his sister, Isabelle, wasted no time in pointing out.

Add in some hundred year old complaining about a group of rowdy teenagers, a woman whose credit card didn't work and had a man's name on it who insisted that it belonged to her, and all the workers behind the counter getting snarky comments from their boss, and Alec really couldn't imagine how his morning could have been any worse.

"Alec!" his sister hollered from the other end of the counter. "Wraps for table nineteen!"

And so his morning continued in the same, tedious pattern. The only upside was that he wasn't sitting in a lecture, hand falling off after taking eight pages of notes in an hour. And in his mood, he couldn't even be grateful for that.

He turned to the next customer and attempted to plaster a smile on his face. "What are you having today?"

The guy, who looked about thirty and was dressed in ratty jeans and a sweater with enough holes in it to rival most of Alec's, scowled. "Black coffee."

Alec was sorely tempted to call him out on his rudeness, but customers were customers, and picking fights with them was not only petty and bad for business, but also delayed everyone else in the line. So he repeated the guy's order back to Isabelle at the coffee machine, and rung up the price.

"How much?" the guy asked, apparently incredulous.

"Three dollars," Alex repeated. Honestly, the price list was right in front of the guy. What did he expect?

Grumbling, the guy pulled out his wallet and practically threw the money on the counter. Alec held his tongue, took the money, and asked for the order of the next person in the queue. When the jerk left, he might calm down, but he hated customers who acted like the employees were pieces of dirt.

"Black coffee," Isabelle said, sliding it towards Alec. Alec passed it to the (still-glaring) man, shot him the happiest smile he could just to irritate him, and turned back to the seemingly-unending line of sprawling people.

The man at the front of the line shot him an apologetic smile. Alec couldn't help but smile back. There was no denying that he was utterly gorgeous: carefully-spiked hair, outrageous clothes that Alec was sure would look appalling on anybody else, tan skin and the strangest green eyes brought out by– Was that eyeliner? And glitter? The man seemed to practically shimmer with the stuff as he moved.

A curse rang out behind him. He frowned when he saw that the guy had managed to knock over his drink. Serves him right, he thought with an internal snort. He pulled out a cloth from under the counter, mumbled an apology to the man he'd just been blatantly checking out, and began to wipe up the spilt drink before it could do any damage.

"Same again," the guy snapped. Clearly, thanking Alec for clearing up the mess was beyond him. God, what was with some people?

Alec debated making him queue up again, but decided that it probably wasn't worth the inevitable argument that would ensue. Instead, he merely nodded, shouted the order back, and repeated the price.

The guy just looked at him. "I'm not paying again."

Alec sighed. "You've just ordered another drink."

"The other one got freaking knocked over! This is a replacement!"

"You knocked it over. I'm sorry, but I have to charge you."

"I'm not fucking paying."

Alec closed his eyes for a moment. Confrontation of this kind was so unpleasant. Couldn't he just kick the guy in the ribs and be done with it? "Then I can't serve you."

The guy slammed his hands down on the counter and leant right into Alec's face. "Listen here, I've paid for that fucking drink, and I'm not paying twice. Do you want me to call your manager and get you fired?"

Alec's eyes widened. Wasn't that a bit over the top for three dollars? But his response was interrupted when a woman shouted, "Hurry up! I'm waiting!"

Alec was the only person serving, as it was the middle of the day and therefore relatively quiet, but the guy was causing a hold-up, and people were beginning to get restless. Couldn't this guy just pay and be done with it?

"I'm really sorry, but this is policy. If I'd knocked it over then you wouldn't have to pay, but I didn't, so—"

The guy folded his arms. "Well it was your fault."

Alec stared at him, feeling a little desperate now. How did he get this dickhead to pay or leave? Because it seemed like they were about the furthest things from his mind right then.

"And how, exactly," came a cold voice, "was your awkwardness in any way his fault?"

Alec looked in shock to the man he'd been checking out earlier. He had his arms folded too, mirroring the other dude, but his stance seemed icily dangerous.

"He jogged me!"

"What, from behind the counter?" He raised one perfect eyebrow. "I don't think so. Please, either pay or leave. You're holding up everyone else."

"I'm calling your fucking manager," he snarled, jabbing a finger at Alec.

The man flicked invisible dirt from underneath his nails—nails which were painted bright purple. "You're boring. Please move. I have things to do and places to be which do not involve adults throwing temper tantrums."

The guy stared, open-mouthed, at the outspoken man, before shooting Alec one final glare and storming out of the café, slamming the door behind him. Alec felt the vibrations through the entire shop.

"Thank you," he said, flushing a little with embarrassment. How had a customer managed to handle that so much better than he had?

"No problem." Glitter-Guy flashed him a smile that definitely did not get Alec's pulse racing. "Caramel frappuccino, please. And this." He put a wrap on the counter, which Alec scanned and then passed back to Isabelle to heat up.

Alec smiled back. "Certainly."

He'd never felt so relieved to see the end of a line as he did a few minutes later. He left Isabelle in charge, ignoring her knowing smirk, and picked up Glitter-Guy's wrap to take over to him.

"Here's your wrap," he said.

The man looked up and smiled. Could he stop doing that? Because it made Alec feel like the stuttering, closeted teenager he'd been in high school whenever anyone paid him any attention.

"Thank you."

"Thank you," Alec replied. "For earlier, I mean."

"It was no problem." He paused, and studied Alec carefully. "You can sit down if you want to."

Alec sat down opposite him almost robotically. He didn't miss the grin that Glitter-Guy hid by ducking his head, but he chose not to read into it.

"Do I get to know your name?" Glitter-Guy asked.

Alec didn't question whether or not he could read the name-tag on his shirt: he was being polite. It seemed to fit what little Alec had seen of him before. He racked his brains to try to remember whether or not he'd ever seen the guy in the shop before. He didn't think he had. Maybe he'd just moved to Brooklyn?

"Alec," he said. "Alec Lightwood."

"People don't call you Alexander?"

He smiled wryly. "Only my parents, when they're annoyed with me. Which is most of the time."

"Alexander is such a nice name," he sighed. "I'm Magnus Bane." He held out his hand. Alec shook it, hesitantly. The name suited him: usual, interesting, somewhat exotic. They dropped hands, and Magnus took an elegant sip of his coffee, regarding Alec with catlike curiosity. Alec could feel his cheeks beginning to redden at the pointed attention, so he looked away. Honestly, had he reverted to blushing schoolboy for the day?

After a few seconds of silence, during which Alec racked his brains for a topic of conversation but came up with a blank, Magnus said, "You look like you're having a bad day."

He glanced back to Magnus. At least, he'd intended it to be a glance. The intrigued, open expression on Magnus' face stopped him looking away.

He shrugged. "Kind of," he admitted.

The arrival of his sister didn't make matters any better.

"He's having a shit day," Isabelle said, picking up the debris littered across the table which Magnus had clearly pushed to one side when he'd sat down. "And I am going to put up a sign saying 'throw away your own fucking rubbish' if I find one more table like this." She gestured wildly.

As per usual, Isabelle had no sense of embarrassment. How she could walk into a conversation with a perfect stranger like that, Alec truly had no idea.

A group of people walked through the door. Isabelle sighed dramatically. Alec made to stand up and return to doing his job rather than continue to sit around chatting, but Isabelle gave him a sweet smile. "I've got it," she said. She shot him a sly smirk as he walked off.

Magnus let out a beautiful laugh, and Alec flushed.

"Your sister?" Magnus asked.

Alec scowled. "Yeah."

Magnus grinned. "She's not very subtle, you know."

"Trust me, I do."

"Well," Magnus said, standing up, rubbish in one hand and a card in the other, "I need to go. It was nice talking, Alec."

Alec nodded perhaps a little vigorously as he too stood. "Uh, yeah. You too. I mean—"

Magnus' smile cut him off. "Call me," he said, pressing the card into Alec's palm.

Magnus didn't linger. He left Alec standing by the table, frozen to the spot in shock that someone like Magnus had actually just given him their number, tossed away his rubbish, then walked towards the door. And Alec totally wasn't staring at his ass in those sinfully tight red jeans when he walked.

Magnus paused as he passed him, and turned to face him again. "Don't look so surprised," Magnus said. "You're adorable." He brushed his lips across Alec's cheek, shot him a flirty wink, then walked back to the door. "Call me," he mouthed from across the café.

Alec looked down at the card in his hand, and turned it over to see Magnus Bane typed in an elegant, over-the-top font. He wasted no time in pocketing it with a slight smile.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his day could get better. It had certainly just been improved exponentially.


	4. Day 4: Cross-Over Day

**A/N**

 **This was just simply too perfect to resist. Combining my two favourite fandoms? Hell to the YES! So, TMI/Harry Potter crossover coming your way. Quidditch features highly. Set post-GoldenTrio generation.**

 **I am tempted to do a multi-chapter Hogwarts fic... We'll see. I'm not happy with the amount of exposition in the first few paragraphs, and it's a bit messy, but I couldn't let all these ideas evaporate. I had to get them down in a one-shot somehow.**

* * *

The first time Alec Lightwood saw Magnus Bane was in his first-year potions class. It wasn't a case of Magnus drawing his eye the moment he walked in. At that time, at the age of eleven, Magnus could almost pass for utterly mundane. The only hint of his later flamboyance was his well-styled hair.

But, dressed in plain black school robes like everyone else, Magnus drew everyone's eye. He was funny, outspoken, charismatic, and knew exactly what he wanted. And he didn't care what anyone else thought.

Alec found the Slytherin a painful reminder of the fact that he was so very different. Shy, reserved, and nervous, Alec very much stayed to himself. He flushed practically every time anyone spoke to him, and couldn't even begin to imagine making the snarky comments Magnus and his friends did.

For that first year, while Alec brooded over just why he'd been put in Hufflepuff, for god's sake, when his entire family had been Gryffindors for as long as anyone could remember, the only person who could really get Alec to open up was mild-mannered, kind-hearted Jem Carstairs.

So in his second year, Alec began to open up. He watched his sister, Isabelle, and adopted brother, Jace, get sorted into Gryffindor. Though he felt a slight pang, he clapped along with everyone else.

But he'd never grinned so broadly as he did when Jace told him that he'd been picked for the Gryffindor quidditch team. Astounded, Alec had watched Jace play the brutal position of beater brilliantly, with all the strength and snark and speed of the fifth year he played with.

And, really, that was how it all started. Going out late to practise with Jace, playing constantly during the holidays, even convincing Jem and Isabelle to play with them, Alec found a strange, unexpected love for the sport.

The first time Alec Lightwood spoke to Magnus Bane was in his third year, after the Hufflepuff quidditch trials. By this time, Alec was just beginning to struggle with the realisation of his sexuality, whilst Magnus was out experimenting very openly.

Alec had just been told that he would play as a chaser. He'd stood, dumbfounded, by the side of the pitch, when the Slytherins began to leak out of the building for their own trials.

"You looked shocked, Lightwood," was the first thing Magnus ever said to him, stood a few feet away, broom in one hand, a lazy smile on his face. "Don't. I may actually have to focus to hit the bludger at you. You fly fast."

Alec stared at Magnus. Magnus knew his name? Magnus had watched him? And Magnus was freaking talking to him about it?

Magnus quirked an eyebrow at him just a little. Alec averted his eyes. "Thanks," he said. He'd seen Magnus play before. He was good. He wasn't amazing, per se - Jace was far better, though they both employed the tact of snark and sarcasm to distract the other players - but he was good.

"Magnus!" Camille Belcourt, the Slytherin captain, barked. "If you want to keep your place on the team, stop chatting and get over here!"

Exchanging a few words with Magnus after games became an almost customary thing for Alec. As he grew into himself and his sexuality, as he found his pride for his house and for himself and for what he stood for, as he accepted who he was and his emotions and his dreams, his confidence grew.

Magnus, in comparison, changed outwardly. Alec was sure he'd never seen him in the same outfit twice, save his school uniform, and even Isabelle had commented on how tasteful the guy's make-up was.

Alec didn't realise how much he looked at Magnus, how much he liked Magnus, how attractive he found him, until he saw Magnus kissing some guy heatedly near the Whomping Willow at the beginning of their fifth year.

And that was how he found himself sitting in the Hufflepuff quidditch stands next to Jem in the freezing November rain, eyes determined to linger on a certain Slytherin than pay any attention to the rest of the game. Really, he should have been focusing on praying that Slytherin won, because Gryffindor needed to lose some points if Hufflepuff were to have any chance of winning the cup this year. And it was Alec's final year. He'd be damned if they didn't get the title.

"You know," Jem said, not tearing his eyes away from the blurs of green and scarlet streaking across the pitch, "you're really becoming quite pathetic."

Alec turned to his to glare at him. "Thank you, James."

Jem grinned a little. "Look at Jace. He decided he wanted Clary, so he asked her out."

"She said no," Alec pointed out.

"At first. But that's not the point."

"Then what is the point?"

"That if you like Magnus so much you should just ask him out."

Alec huffed, and turned his attention back to the game.

Slytherin won the game by a very fine margin, thanks to a spectacular catch from their seeker. While Jace complained and ranted to Clary and Jem about how appalling the Gryffindor seeker was, Alec felt a presence behind him and warm breath stirring the still November air.

He turned around, trying to ignore the blush that Magnus always evoked. "Hi."

Magnus smiled one of his gorgeous smiles. There was no way his hair could still be that perfect after a quidditch match unless he'd magicked it into those spikes. "Hello, Lightwood."

"Well done," Alec said after a moment's silence. "We were rooting for you."

"Tactical," Magnus replied, grinning. "My dilemma is that I can't decide whether I should be supporting Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff next match."

Alec glanced at the score Slytherin had racked up during the game, and raised his eyebrows after doing the maths. "Ravenclaw. If we win we go to the top."

"Exactly. But you fly for the other team." Magnus dropped him a wink, and Alec's cheeks heated up.

Alec was at once very aware of three things. One, that this was one of the longest conversations he'd ever had with Magnus—they usually exchanged brief congratulations or condolences or jokes and went their separate ways. Two, Magnus was standing so close that he could see each individual sparkle of glitter just accenting the edge of his eyelids. And three, Magnus had just insinuated that he wanted to support Hufflepuff, just because that was the team Alec played for.

He felt unsure as to where he stood with Magnus Bane. They didn't talk away from the quidditch pitch, they called each other by their last names, and even when they had the same classes they didn't exchange so much as hellos.

And yet, that sentence was either friendly or flirtatious. Alec wasn't stupid. The glittery wink that had accompanied it seemed to rule out the first option.

Two years ago, Alec might have closed the conversation and run away, never to speak to Magnus again. But this would quite possibly be Alec's only chance to see if anything could come of his unrequited-crush. He'd take it.

The only problem was that he had no idea what to say.

Magnus, though, spoke first. "Can I ask you a question?"

Alec nodded. "Of course."

"Do you deliberately ignore me?"

Alec stared at him for a long few seconds, dumbfounded. Ignore Magnus Bane? Nobody ignored Magnus. He was loud and brash and outspoken and flamboyant and completely gorgeous. Alec knew he wasn't the only one who thought so.

It took Alec a full minute to find his voice. "I don't ignore you. I always talk to you after quidditch—"

Magnus waved a dismissive hand. "After quidditch matches, for thirty seconds. It doesn't really count, Lightwood. You never talk to me off the pitch."

"You never talk to me, either," Alec retorted.

"I keep trying to catch your eye," Magnus said, a slight edge to his voice. "All the time. At meals, in the corridors, in lessons..."

Alec didn't know how to respond. Maybe he did ignore Magnus, inadvertently. He'd certainly never noticed Magnus trying to catch his eye from across the corridor. He just heard Magnus' voice, calling out to his friends, laughing, joking, being himself.

"You always avoid looking at me." Magnus' voice softened.

Alec wanted to look away from those unique green eyes, which faded to gold around the pupil. But he didn't. He couldn't. He kept looking at Magnus, heart aching at how close they were, and yet how much distance was between them.

"I'm sorry," Alec said. "I didn't mean to. I never meant to. But—" He bit his lip. He couldn't say that.

"But?" Magnus promoted him. Alec noticed his grip on his broom handle tighten, turning the soft brown skin of his knuckles almost white.

"It's easier to not look at someone at all," Alec murmured, averting his eyes, "than to look once and not be able to look away. Especially when they don't have any interest in looking back."

He felt fingertips under his chin, encouraging him to glance back at Magnus. His breath caught at the gleaming, passionate look in the Slytherin's eye.

"I think," Magnus said in a low voice, breath washing across Alec's face, "that we've just established that I do have an interest in looking back."

And then Magnus' lips were on his, soft and slow and tender, contrasting to the way Alec was grasping at his robes and Magnus had one hand fisting in the back of Alec's sweater; Alec wondered how he could have spent so many years fantasising about this when it could have been reality.

When Magnus pulled away, he cupped his long fingers along Alec's cheeks, a smile on his lips. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he murmured.

Alec smiled. "Trust me," he said, "I do."

Magnus ran his thumbs along Alec's cheeks. "Your brother is staring at us."

"You mean Jace?"

Magnus nodded.

"Ignore him." Alec licked his lower lip. "Magnus—" He swallowed. He'd never called him that before. Sure, he always referred to him as Magnus, and he always thought of him as Magnus, but he'd never called him that to his face.

Magnus just smiled. "Yes, Alec?"

Alec swore his heart nearly burst right out of his chest when Magnus said his name like that. "I... Oh, never mind."

They kissed again, standing at the side of the quidditch pitch, the smell of sweat and grass and some pleasant scent that Alec couldn't place coming from Magnus. His lips tasted sweet, and were smooth against his. Alec could feel his own hands shaking, and he hoped that Magnus didn't notice.

"Hogsmeade," Magnus said when they broke apart for a second time. "There's a Hogsmeade trip soon. Come with me?"

Alec looked at the Slytherin, barely able to believe what he was hearing. "Okay. I'd like that."

Magnus smiled widely. He squeezed Alec's hand, kissed his cheek, and murmured, "Don't avoid me, Alexander," before walking away, back into the castle, leaving Alec feeling as though his every wish had just come true.


	5. Day 5: Back to the Future Day (pt 1)

A/N

The idea for this came about while discussing the agony of TDI with my friend right after she finished Clockwork Princess. Of course, I immediately had to find a copy of CP1 and CP2 to check that I had all my facts right, but...here we go.

My accuracy regarding 19th century American behaviour and clothing may be a little off. Apologies in advance. However, I've spent WAY too long researching when contraceptives and lube and all that stuff was invented.

I know too much.

Oh, and also, this fic entirely destroys all family trees. Please excuse my canon divergence. (Because the rest of it could totally fit in with the rest of the series'...)

This got SO out of hand... It's so long. I'm sorry. But it's also smutty. With feelings. Lots and lots of feelings.

New York, 1878

Magnus Bane was brooding. This, in itself, seemed like a tragedy to him. He'd only been three days in the exciting, bustling city of New York, yet he couldn't get his mind away from London, from the London institute, from the people he'd left behind there.

Because yes, he felt ecstatic to be rid of Camille. Yes, it was a relief to be constantly worrying about Will no longer. Yes, his heart was no longer weighted down by the heartache and pain surrounding those Nephilim. And yes, New York was a fresh start for him.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but wallow in his misery. He'd loved Camille. At least, he'd believed he had. And he'd believed her love for him to be of the same vein. Oh, how wrong he was. All Camille had been was manipulative and a liar. She'd never cared for him—certainly not enough to explain where she was, or who she was with. Not even enough to stay faithful to him.

Then, Camille never had put any stock in mundanes, or mundane lives, or their ways. Her views on love and his were so very different. Perhaps it was a good thing that he'd been exposed to her ways as quickly as he had.

Quickly being a relative term, of course. He was immortal, after all.

Of course, Camille wasn't the only thing plaguing his mind. The turbulence he'd left in his wake when he'd turned away from London and it's bad memories bothered him. Jem Carstairs, Henry Branwell, Will and Tessa with their entirely shattered hearts...

He almost felt guilty about that last one. He'd come to care for Tessa - all of them, he supposed, but with Tessa he'd found almost a kindred spirit, in kind if not in person - and he'd left her. But then, he'd left her in good hands. Will loved that girl as fiercely as he'd loved James, as fiercely as Jem had loved her. Magnus would see Tessa again. When her heart broke more entirely than was possible for mortals to contemplate for the first time, certainly, if not sooner.

Magnus started out of his thoughts when he registered a presence in front of where he was standing. He'd been leaning against a railing, staring into the gushing waters of an artfully-designed fountain outside an extortionately expensive restaurant in one of the more luxurious parts of New York City for probably the best part of three hours. Nobody had spoken to him in that time, until now. Perhaps he was being told to leave by the restaurant owner.

When he glanced up, he nearly jumped out of his skin. For just a split second, he was back in London, Will in front of him with that look of despair and misery and self-loathing on his face; his jubilance when he'd found that demon tooth, barely conscious; his features softer and his entire self more grounded, yet just as troubled, when he was around Tessa and Jem.

But the man in front of him was not Will. He had the same ink black hair, the same deep blue eyes, but there the similarities ended. Whereas Will, though beautiful, had really never moved Magnus, this man instantly made Magnus' heart ache, quite possibly due to his recently-destroyed relationship with Camille.

The man's eyebrows furrowed in what appeared to be growing concern the longer Magnus stared at him. The warlock realised that the man had been speaking, and that he hadn't responded. He didn't even know what the man had said.

Magnus couldn't quite work out the expression on the man's face. It was so open, so unreserved, and yet so conflicting. He looked nervous, apprehensive about approaching Magnus, worried (probably about Magnus' mental stability), and perhaps a little sheepish. But he also looked so very curious.

He looked young, Magnus realised. He was probably no more than twenty, but despite his clear lack of years, despite the eagerness to explore and experience in his eyes, he also looked weary. Like he'd seen more than any person of his age should have been forced through.

I seem to be a magnet for those people, Magnus thought, just a touch of misery creeping into him.

The young man in front of him cleared his throat pointedly, looking increasingly more embarrassed and increasingly more concerned.

"I apologise," Magnus said, as politely as he could given his current mood and mindset. "Can I help you?"

The man looked vaguely amused and a little relieved. "I was just offering you the same thing. You look exhausted."

Magnus raised an eyebrow. A little forward, don't you think? What happened to polite and proper mundane society? Or is it not quite the same in America?

The man blushed very slightly. Without his permission, his mind immediately went to thoughts of how endearing the look was. He was done with any form of romantic relation for the moment. He didn't wish to trap himself into anything else after all he'd experienced in London, both from the unfortunate events regarding Camille and himself, but also due to what he'd seen between Will and Jem and Tessa.

"I didn't mean to invade," the man said, back-tracking a little. "But I'm quite sure you'd look less bothered had you just been chased by a pack of Ravener demons, so—"

Magnus' lips parted, partially in shock, partially in horror. Demons? This man was a Shadowhunter? Oh, fate, why must you be so cruel?

Magnus had entirely forgotten the reason why nobody had bothered him. He'd glamoured himself. Damn these Nephilim and their ability to interrupt him and his musings each and every time. Now that the man had revealed himself, Magnus noticed the voyance rune on the back of his hand, and another which he recognised as strength curling up his neck, just visible.

"...and if the Institute can be of any help, then I'm happy to offer my assistance."

Once again, the man had been speaking, but Magnus hadn't registered a word he'd said. He blinked blankly at the man.

"Oh, by the Angel," he sighed. "Would you rather I left you to your brooding?"

Yes, was what Magnus intended to say, but, "No," was what actually came out of his mouth.

The man raised his eyebrows. "Very well."

"But I'm not going back to your Institute," he said, firmly, "so if you cannot associate yourself with a Downworlder but for Clave business, then please don't waste my time or yours."

The man looked around very deliberately. "I don't see anyone here who would care much one way or the other. You're glamoured, and so am I."

Magnus glanced around, his eyes widening when he saw the scarily large number of Shadowhunters inside the restaurant behind him. A young woman with long black hair who looked much like the man in front of him, a brown-haired man who looked as little like a Nephilim as Magnus could imagine but who was covered in Runes nonetheless, a second young woman with curly red hair, and a younger boy, old enough to bare the black Marks but not more than fifteen, with glasses, pointedly ignoring the rest. Oh, and a tall, arrogant-looking blonde man who'd just walked up to the table. He raised his eyebrows when the blonde man kissed the red-head. While he didn't care what other people did in public, it seemed more than a tad unusual.

Both the women, he noticed, were both covered in runes, and he could see a seraph blade slid in the belt of the red-head's trousers. Interesting. Women had to fight tooth and nail to be trained as men were. Most stayed away from the lives of warriors.

"I can see a few," Magnus said, choking back his shock. Honestly, what was it with him and Shadowhunters lately? Everywhere he went, he seemed to run into them, even when he was, frankly, desperate not to.

The man in front of him followed his gaze, and let out a chuckle. "My siblings and my friends. They would be rather hypocritical to object to my speaking to you."

Magnus shot him an inquiring look. "What do you mean?"

The man smiled. It lit up his whole face, drew attention to those enchanting blue eyes of his, accented his high cheekbones, and Magnus found himself a little breathless. "A story for another time, perhaps."

Magnus hesitated for just a moment. "May I ask something of you?"

"Of course," the man said. Abruptly, Magnus realised that he didn't even know his name.

"Well," he laughed ruefully, "perhaps I should ask for your name, first?"

"Alexander Lightwood. Most people call me Alec."

Magnus couldn't comprehend the ludicrous situation. "Lightwood?"

"Lightwood," Alec confirmed with a frown. "Is that a problem?"

"No," Magnus said, surprising even himself. But it wasn't a lie. Alec was himself. He had nothing to do with Gabriel or Gideon or London.

"But?" Alec prompted, clearly sensing something more.

"A story for another day," Magnus said airily, hoping he'd get the hint that it was dangerous and sensitive territory that he was straying into.

Thankfully, Alec caught on instantly, and changed the subject. "Do I get the honour of your name?"

"Magnus Bane," he said.

Alec hummed lightly. "That name suits you."

Magnus didn't know what to make of Alec. Shy one minute, bold the next, and that look in his eye... Was it flirtatious, or was Magnus just looking for what he wanted to see?

"What was it you wanted to ask of me?" Alec asked, snapping Magnus from his thoughts.

Magnus wondered whether this would be an exceptionally bad idea, but he decided he didn't care. It could also turn out to be an exceptionally good idea. "Your company," Magnus murmured.

If Alec was surprised by the unusual request - and it was unusual, coming from a Downworlder to a Shadowhunter - then he didn't show it. "You already have that."

"In a more private setting, perhaps?" Magnus asked, aware of the desperate undertone in his voice. When had Magnus Bane become desperate? Regarding one of the Nephilim, no less? The snide voice in the back of his mind started listing off all the recent events which seemed to be turning him soft, but he ignored it.

Alec made a nonchalant motion with his shoulders. "If you wish."

Magnus almost missed the flash of excitement in Alec's eyes. Almost, but not quite. Had he blinked at the wrong time, he never would have noticed it before Alec schooled his features back into a neutral expression.

Four hours and two bottles of wine later, sat on the floor of his carpeted living room, Magnus decided that Alec was more than a pretty (gorgeous beautiful exquisite) face. He'd made him laugh more in a few short hours than he had in a very long time. He felt lighter, somehow. Like spending time with Alec had lifted the burden of the past months slightly, even though Alec had no idea that Magnus carried such worries.

"Your eyes," Alec began. Magnus had been delighted to see that with addition of a little alcohol (which Alec held remarkably well—no drunken embarrassment from that man) he lost his inhibitions and slight shyness. "Are they your only mark?"

"No," Magnus said. "I don't have a belly button."

Alec looked surprised. "Really?"

"Mmhm." Magnus knew he was a little more intoxicated that he'd thought when he opened his mouth again. "The devil's marks. Made my mother hang herself in the barn. My father tried to drown me."

Alec's shock was palpable. "That's horrible. How you're born isn't your fault."

Magnus smiled wryly. Why was this Shadowhunter so very different to all the others? "That's what happens when your good, church-going parents have a child branded by the devil. My father's attempt fell unfortunately short. I lashed out with my magic; burned him."

Alec listened with rapt attention. Magnus didn't understand how Alec seemed so nearly unaffected by the copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed over the course of the night.

"What did you do then?" Alec asked.

"I was raised by the Silent Brothers in Madrid. They told me what I was." He shrugged. "I was fairly self-sufficient by the age of about sixteen."

Alec shook his head. Magnus expected the pity that he usually got when he related that story, but Alec didn't quite show that. Sorrow, yes, but not pity. "How you are born," Alec said again, "is not your fault."

"I'm over it," Magnus said.

Alec nodded. "Maybe. That wasn't my point."

Magnus swirled his glass, then took a delicate sip of his wine. He watched Alec over the rim of the glass. Alec watched him unabashedly back, just the lightest of flushes covering his cheeks as they held each others' gaze. Magnus didn't quite understand Alec Lightwood.

"May I ask you something?" Magnus asked.

Alec looked like he was trying not to laugh. "You've just told me your tragic childhood story. I think we're rather past that, don't you?"

Magnus' lips quirked upwards. Damn, he liked this young man. Just the right mix of shy and coy and bold, and beautifully plain-spoken. He didn't tie people up in fancy, elaborate words like Magnus prided himself on being able to do, or like so many of his people did.

"Very well. You're spending your evening drinking with and talking to a warlock. Why?"

Alec raised his eyebrows. "Because you asked me to."

"You spoke to me first. And you didn't have to accept. I wouldn't have minded." Much, Magnus added in his head. Not after the first three shots I'd have needed to drown my sorrows.

"Like I said at the time, you looked like you needed some help. I'm a Shadowhunter. Helping people is in the job description. As for why I accepted your offer..." He made a nonchalant motion with his head and shoulders. "You made a good first impression."

Magnus choked on his wine inelegantly. He let out a laugh. "Jesus, Alec, I acted like I couldn't understand English. Or a child with the attention span and understanding of a gnat."

Alec grinned. "Charming."

"What?"

"You. You're charming. And hilarious."

Magnus nearly protested by saying that if anyone was charming, it was Alec. But he didn't. He was too taken aback by Alec's compliment. He was a Downworlder, for crying out loud. Shadowhunters and Downworlders simply didn't interact like this.

"Does it bother you?" Magnus asked, trying to sound like he didn't much care about the answer. In truth, he cared more than he wanted to admit. Alec seemed different. He didn't want that opinion to be shattered.

Alec frowned a little. "What?"

"Me. I'm a Downworlder. I'm warlock scum. Your people have had plates smashed because I touched them. I've been told I shouldn't be allowed to live; told I'm no better than my demon father."

Magnus wasn't sure what to make of the somewhat bothered, somewhat embarrassed, somewhat angry look on Alec's face. Anger at him? Anger at his people? Anger at the Clave?

"I know," Alec said at last. "And no. It doesn't bother me. Nobody's parents are perfect."

"Perfect?" Magnus snorted, impoliteness be damned. "My father is a demon. A powerful demon whom even you wouldn't wish to meet. A demon who took advantage of a human woman."

"Good thing you're not your father, then." Alec took a drink from his wineglass. He held Magnus' gaze with a steadiness that knocked the breath out of the warlock's lungs. "You might be immortal, your father might be a demon, but you bleed and love and hate and live just like the rest of us. You have a soul, you have a heart, you understand mercy and humility and suffering as humans do."

Magnus stared at him. He just...stared. Who was this ridiculous, beautiful, wonderful Shadowhunter? Why couldn't the rest of the Nephilim see the world through Alec's bright, clear blue eyes?

But rather than the myriad of things Magnus wanted to say to Alec to tell him how much that comment had touched and warmed his broken, aching heart, what he said was, "My eyes—"

"—Are..." Alec hesitated, then went with: "...utterly intriguing."

"Intriguing," Magnus repeated, voice flat.

For the first time in a couple of hours, doubt crossed Alec's face. "I didn't mean to offend you. I—"

"Most people," Magnus stated, voice quiet, "are revolted by my eyes. Most people hate the reminder of what and who I am. Most people hate being reminded of the fact that I am part demon."

Magnus couldn't help it. He wasn't going to deny that he'd said that almost entirely to gain another compliment, another reassurance, from between Alec's lips. He wanted terribly for Alec's words to be honest. He wanted to know that Alec meant what he said. Without realising he'd begun to do it, Magnus was trying to catch Alec out, trip him up.

But, as had been the case for the entirety of their time in each other's company, Alec didn't miss a beat. "I like your eyes." He flushed a little again; glanced away for a moment. "They're exotic." He hesitated, then looked back to Magnus. "You're exotic. You're beautiful."

There was that shy bluntness, again.

Alec was leaning back against the side of a wall, legs sprawled out, and Magnus sat opposite him, legs crossed as he leant back against the back of his sofa. He couldn't quite remember why they'd sat on the floor and not the more comfortable sofa, but he wasn't complaining: there were less obstacles in their way like this.

"So are you," Magnus said. "You're gorgeous."

Alec blushed more deeply this time, and he looked down at his wine. Normally, when Magnus made a statement like that, he'd have raked his eyes up and down the other person's body, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Alec's. Long black lashes obscured them as Alec avoided his gaze. Magnus took the moment he wasn't distracted by Alec's eyes to admire his sharp cheekbones, the graceful line of his neck, his defined shoulders, the entrancing appearance of his lips...

It had been a while since Magnus had done this with someone who wasn't Camille—treacherous bitch. He'd never done what he was suddenly desperate to do with a Shadowhunter. He'd never even considered it. But Alec seemed so very different to most of the others.

Alec looked back up at him, a fierce burn in his blue, blue eyes. Magnus choked on any words he might have had. He blamed his very unusual inability to speak on the alcohol, but he was more than sure that it was truly down to Alec's words and that beautiful, mesmerising look.

"Magnus," Alec whispered.

Magnus set his wine glass down, heart speeding up in anticipation. If he hadn't been sure that he was reading the situation correctly before, then he was definitely sure now. Nobody could mistake the look in Alec's eyes, or the subtle shift in his body posture. It made Magnus' heart ache.

Magnus knelt up, and reached a hand out to lay it along Alec's cheek. Alec's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he leant a little into the touch. Magnus smiled softly, and ran his thumb below his eyelashes.

Not giving Alec time to open his eyes, Magnus leant down and forwards from where he was kneeling up and kissed him. His other hand slid to Alec's neck as they kissed, and he felt Alec's hands flutter around his back, not sure where to rest, before they settled on his hips and pulled him closer. Magnus slid forwards, practically leaning up against Alec, but, judging by the enthusiastic way Alec was kissing him back, his didn't mind much.

Magnus felt Alec moving beneath him. He moved his hands from Alec's neck to braced on the wall either side of his head, holding his weight off him as Alec shifted position.

Alec trailed his hands up Magnus' sides to his hair, and simultaneously nipped down on his lip and tugged on his spiked-up hair. Magnus didn't even bother to try to smother the soft groan that extracted from him.

He changed the angle of their kiss just a little. When his tongue flickered between Alec's lips, he was gone. He pulled the Shadowhunter closer at the same time as he pushed him back against the wall, completely dominating their kiss. He got to his feet, moving slowly enough not to break the kiss, pulled Alec up with him, and pinned his hands above his head on the wall.

What he didn't count on, as he stood pressed up against Alec, kissing the living daylights out of him, was Shadowhunter strength. He couldn't even get out the surprised noise that began in the back of his throat before Alec had flipped them over, pinning Magnus' hands up instead.

And fuck, if that wasn't hot as hell.

When Alec finally pulled away, Magnus sucked in a ragged gasp. Alec had rendered him completely speechless that night. He couldn't get his head around this simply-spoken, kind-hearted, hot-as-hell man.

Alec kissed a line of kisses down across Magnus' jaw, back to the hollow behind his ear. Magnus dragged a hand through Alec's jet black hair, which was oh-so-soft, and tilted his head sideways as Alec explored the area, encouraging him down to that spot at the base of his neck that never failed to drive him wild...

But Alec took his time, kissing and nipping and lavishing the column of Magnus' neck before he moved across his collarbone. Magnus' hand tightened in his hair when Alec found all those little places that made him squirm. He made a low, keening sound in the back of his throat. Goosebumps rose across his entire body when Alec's hand slid just a little way under his shirt and over the bare skin of his hip.

But then Alec pulled back, unceremoniously and very abruptly, and stared at Magnus, chest heaving. Magnus looked back at him through heavy-lidded eyes. God, what he wouldn't give to throw Alexander Lightwood back on his bed and rip off that damn shirt and—

"I am so sorry," Alec breathed, taking a step back. He dragged a hand through his hair, which was sticking up in all directions, beautifully tousled, thanks to Magnus.

Magnus wanted to kick something. He wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. Of course something would go wrong. Because his luck was so appalling at the moment that he'd rather be told he'd been banned from Peru all over again than go through any more pain.

Why presume Alec would be anything but embarrassed and terrified of the things - or, rather, the people - he wanted? The majority of other people in his situation were. And Magnus couldn't see the Clave, despite how pretentious it was, accepting same-sex relationships in the next three centuries. He was quite sure the mundane world would, eventually. They always did come to accept what had been shunned. But the Clave? Not really.

He sighed, leant his head back against the wall, and closed his eyes for a moment. Just for a second, he savoured the taste of Alec on his lips. All salt and silver and moonlight and something that Magnus couldn't even think of a metaphor for.

When he reopened his eyes, Alec had a frown on his face. He was watching Magnus with poorly-disguised longing. But, apparently, that didn't matter. Apparently, Alec was too much a prim and proper Shadowhunter, despite his shocking views on Downworlders, to be comfortable kissing another man.

Magnus really hoped he had a lot of alcohol in his house. It would take a while to drown out those blue eyes.

All at once exhausted, Magnus said, "It's fine, Alec. I shouldn't expect anything else."

Alec's eyes widened incredulously. "Excuse me?"

It was Magnus' turn to frown. They didn't seem to be on the same page. Then why had Alec...? Perhaps it would be better just to say it straight. Pun not intended.

"You weren't pulling away because you're ashamed?" Magnus asked. Really, it was embarrassing how much he wanted Alec to say that shame was the last thing on his mind. It was truly pathetic. Magnus was a little disgusted with himself. Right after Camille's utter betrayal and disregard to mundane life, too.

Alec looked at him with a blank expression on his beautiful face. "Ashamed? No. Embarrassed, yes, but not ashamed. Why would I be ashamed?"

Magnus raised his eyebrows and gestured between them. "We're both men."

Alec shrugged. "We're not in public."

So, devastatingly simple.

Magnus felt his entire body relax. Thank every deity out there, he thought. "Why were you embarrassed? Because, frankly, there was absolutely nothing embarrassing about that." He chuckled wryly. "Quite the opposite."

Alec's cheeks, predictably, heated up. Magnus had an inappropriate fascination with the ways he could make Alec blush.

"I threw myself at you," Alec said. "We barely know each other, but here we are—"

Propriety be damned, Magnus had to speak his mind. "Alexander. I don't care. No part of me cares. I could not care less. We've spent the best part of the last six hours talking."

Alec's eyes burned with passion when he looked up at Magnus from beneath his long, dark lashes. "Neither do I," he said. "I just don't want you to think badly of me."

Magnus' eyes softened. He reached out a hand, and swallowed the satisfaction and soft rumble of affection that welled inside him when Alec took it and pressed his lips to Magnus' knuckles.

"I don't," Magnus assured him. "Not at all. I promise. God knows I've done more than my fair share of entirely inappropriate things." Magnus grinned at the memories. He was hit by a strange longing to tell Alec a hundred stories at once. "Really, though, you've said enough tonight to completely rule out any bad social stigmas associated with kissing six hours after you met me."

Alec bit his lip. It was really rather endearing. Magnus wanted to pull that lip between his own teeth and run over it with the tip of his tongue. "I didn't say that to try to take advantage of you."

Magnus laughed, and kissed his nose. "I know, darling."

Alec smirked a little. "That was very patronising. And, strangely, I don't feel the need to punch you in the face."

"I'm flattered," Magnus said, rolling his eyes. "Can you do something else to my face? A very specific part of it, really..."


	6. Day 5: Back to the Future Day (pt 2)

Alec took the hint. If it could be called a hint at all. More of an instruction, Magnus thought. But his wayward thoughts were cast aside when Alec's lips met his again, this time more softly, sweetly, his hands cupping Magnus' face.

Alec broke off the kiss, and looked at Magnus curiously. "You are a very strange man, Magnus Bane. Did you know that?"

Magnus' lips curved upwards. He couldn't help it. He didn't even reply. He just crashed his lips down on Alec's, hands clutching at his (very strong, very toned) shoulders, and kissed him thoroughly breathless.

When Magnus copied Alec's earlier movements and began that line of exploration across his jaw to his ear, Alec gasped, "What the hell was that for?"

"Being the first Shadowhunter to ever call me a man."

He didn't give Alec a chance to respond. He took Alec's earlobe between his teeth experimentally. Alec stilled and tensed simultaneously. Cautiously, Magnus flicked his tongue over it and scraped his teeth down very gently. Alec's grip on Magnus' hips tightened, hands forming fists and bunching up the material of Magnus' shirt.

"Angel," Alec whispered.

Magnus hid his smug smirk in Alec's neck. Somewhat reluctantly (because, really, those reactions had been golden) he continued his descent down Alec's neck, nipping and kissing and lavishing, alternating between sweet kisses and hot kisses. Alec had one hand clutched in the hair at the nape of his neck, the other still on his hip, and Magnus was very, very aware of every time Alec's fingers brushed across his bare skin.

It felt like some kind of inferno was starting in his stomach when Alec let out a growl of impatience, dragged Magnus back up, wound his arms around him more tightly, and kissed him. It felt...possessive, Alec's kiss. And Magnus didn't mind one bit. In fact, he rather liked it.

"Bedroom," Alec said in a low voice, only breaking their kiss for a moment before reattaching his lips. "Where?"

Magnus was enjoying Alec's kisses too much to reply. Instead, he pushed Alec back, not worrying about knocking him over. Alec stumbled a little, but his Shadowhunter grace and balance kept him upright and firmly entwined with Magnus.

Progress was slow, but eventually Magnus had Alec pressed back against his bedroom door. Alec fumbled with the door handle, so Magnus flicked his fingers to make the door bang open. Alec didn't show any kind of discomfort when Magnus displayed his magic. He hadn't earlier, either, when Magnus had magicked two bottles of wine into his living room from the extraordinarily rich house ten minutes away.

Alec pulled Magnus into the bedroom, not bothering to shut the door (not that Magnus cared), and, taking Magnus entirely by surprise, quite literally threw the warlock back on the bed.

Magnus would have made a comment about Shadowhunter strength and grace and agility - because not only had Alec landed him right in the middle of the bed, but he'd thrown him with no fuss or difficulty, and he'd done it all with his eyes closed - but Alec was crawling up the bed, a heated look of pure lust in his eyes, and Magnus momentarily lost the ability to speak. He just lay there, propped up on his elbows, and watched as Alec came to hover over him, on all fours.

Alec was surprisingly gentle as he pressed Magnus' shoulders to lay the warlock down. He leant with his forearms supporting him on either side of Magnus' head and his knees either side of Magnus' thighs, just staring into the other man's eyes for a long minute.

He bent his head slowly, and kissed Magnus even more so. Deeply, passionately, but slowly. Magnus slid his hands around Alec's waist and tugged, protesting against the inches of space between their bodies. Alec braced himself, then lowered his body down slowly, settling between Magnus' legs, where Magnus had bent his knees up, feet flat on the bed.

Alec ran a hand through Magnus hair, the touch almost reverent. Unbidden, thoughts of how different this experience was to anything with Camille rose to the forefront of Magnus' mind. He stiffened at the memory of how he'd loved her, how he'd fallen for her acts, how she'd expected him to be at ease with her actions with other men, how she'd abandoned him, lied to him, played this thoughts and feelings...

Alec pulled away, concern covering every inch of his beautiful face. Magnus' heart ached at the look. All thoughts of Camille had gone, to be replaced by those twin blue eyes, currently looking at him with such tender worry that Magnus just wanted to wrap his arms around the young man and never let him go.

And that thought alone was utterly ridiculous.

"What's wrong?" Alec asked. Clearly, he'd noticed the shift in Magnus' body language. Magnus supposed that it was probably difficult not to, when you were that close to someone, that focused on someone, but Alec could easily have ignored it. "Magnus," Alec prompted him when the warlock didn't respond, too focused on Alec, Alec's hands, Alec's lips, Alec's beautiful words, Alec's kind heart...

"Magnus!"

Magnus was snapped back to the present when Alec practically shouted his name.

"By the Angel, Magnus," Alec said. "You keep spacing out on me."

"You keep distracting me," Magnus quipped.

Alec rolled his eyes, but he looked pleased. "Are you all right?"

"Perfectly."

Alec frowned a little. "You seemed tense. Is this all okay?"

Magnus reached up and put a hand on Alec's cheek, brown and creamy skin contrasting starkly despite the dimness of the room. Magnus' bejewelled fingers glimmered as he moved his hand. "I promise, it had nothing to do with you."

Alec's frown didn't smooth out. "Okay."

He didn't probe for information, though he looked curious. Magnus appreciated that. He drew Alec down for a sweet kiss. "Thank you," he said.

"For what?" Alec murmured, running his hands down Magnus' forearms, which were exposed after Magnus had taken off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves earlier.

"Not asking."

"It's none of my business."

Magnus smiled into their kiss.

Alec's hands began to inch more confidently over Magnus' body: trailing to his sides, his chest, his stomach. His hands slid underneath Magnus' shirt, and Magnus let out a soft sigh. Shaking hands unbuttoned his shirt, and threw it back, pushing it down his shoulders. Alec's warm hands replaced the cool silk, tracing over the bare skin, pausing with a hint of curiosity where a belly button should have been, before continuing up.

Magnus pushed himself up, enjoying not just Alec's careful, hesitant caresses but also the utter wildness of his kisses in contrast. Alec pulled him right up by the opened sides of his shirt (which Magnus found a little more sexy than he should have) so that Alec sat in his lap, both of them upright and chest-to-chest.

Not to be bothered by such mundane and inconvenient things as buttons, Magnus snapped his fingers once, letting free a small spray of blue sparks that shone through his eyelids, and Alec's shirt disappeared somewhere across the room. Alec paused for a moment, pulling back from their delicious kiss to narrow his eyes. Magnus wondered whether, at last, something about his magic had bothered the young Shadowhunter.

But no. Alec said, "If I can't find my shirt because you've been careless, Magnus, you're finding it."

Magnus grinned at him. "Do give me some credit, darling."

Alec raised both eyebrows, before a smile broke over his face. Magnus leant back in to kiss him, losing himself in the feeling of Alec's lithe warrior's body straining against him, his entire being focused in on what it wanted.

Besides which, Alec had some fantastic abs going on beneath those conservative Victorian clothes. Magnus appreciated good body tone.

Magnus attached his lips to Alec's neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh. Alec would doubtless have a mark in the morning, but he didn't seem to care. He let out a soft whimper, pushing himself into the contact.

Abruptly, Magnus found himself on his back again. Really, he thought, I need to learn how to keep up with Shadowhunter speed. Although, admittedly, it made Magnus hot and bothered to be caught unaware and pushed about like that upon occasion. Alec seemed to have just the right balance without even trying.

Alec had one knee between Magnus' thighs, and was in the process of first devouring his mouth, then trailing his lips across and down his neck with a blaze of hot, barely-there kisses that drove Magnus wild.

The warlock had just focused on the proximity of his lover's knee, and was wondering whether its location was deliberate, when Alec pressed it up, causing Magnus to let out a groan. Yes. Alec knew what he was doing. Had he done this before? He certainly seemed to have a decent idea of what would drive Magnus crazy. But had he done it with a man before?

The errant (and pointless) thoughts flew from Magnus' mind when Alec slithered down his body, lips and tongue leaving a blazing line of heat down his stomach as he moved down. Alec scraped his teeth lightly over Magnus' hip, and the warlock nearly jumped out of his skin. What was this man doing to him?

When Alec's hand went to the button fly on Magnus' pants, Magnus had to stop him. That hand shook far too much for Magnus to be at ease. He cupped his hands around Alec's shoulders and pulled him back up for another kiss, this one slower, in an attempt to calm both their racing hearts.

"Are you all right?" Magnus asked, voice just a murmur, when he pulled away.

Alec nodded, but his voice shook too, when he spoke: "Yes."

Magnus studied his face for a moment, but found no sign to suggest anything to the contrary. He pressed his lips to Alec's forehead. "You're shaking," he said.

"I haven't done this before," Alec muttered, not meeting Magnus' gaze.

"Ever? Or with a man?"

Alec scowled, though the scowl didn't seem to be directed at Magnus. "I've never had any wish to do this with a woman. I've never done this, period."

Magnus cupped a pale cheek in one hand, and ran his thumb gently across the Shadowhunter's kiss-swollen lips. Alec shivered a little at the touch, but when he lifted his eyes to Magnus', they filled with doubt.

"Alexander?"

"Are you sending me home?"

Magnus' eyes widened. "I have no intention of telling what to do. You're an adult."

Alec relaxed. He nestled his cheek just a little into Magnus' palm. The warlock's heart warmed.

"Do you want to do this?" Magnus asked.

Alec nodded, looking a touch embarrassed at the topic of conversation. "Yes."

"Even though you've never done this before?"

"Does that bother you?" Alec asked, voice steadier than before but with a hint of nervousness.

"No," Magnus assured him. "But you barely know me. I just need to know that you're sure. I don't want you to regret anything."

Magnus couldn't for the life of him remember the last time he'd felt like this with someone so soon—as though his own satisfaction came far below the comfort of his lover. But nor could he bare the thought of them waking in the morning to Alec feeling like the night had been a mistake. That scared Magnus a little. He blamed it on a combination of the wine, his heartache, and Alec's kind heart. It didn't mean anything.

"I won't regret anything," Alec whispered, the ends of his hair falling forwards and brushing against Magnus' fingers.

Magnus smiled. "Then we'll do this. I am capable of being gentle." A sudden thought occurred to Magnus, and he frowned. "I wasn't the first person you've ever kissed, was I?"

Alec shook his head, smiling bashfully. "No."

In response, Magnus turned them over, somewhat more carefully than Alec had. It was his turn to drag his lips down Alec's chest and stomach, lingering over his nipples and dipping into his belly-button. Magnus had always had an unnatural fascination with them and with the responses people had to them being touched, perhaps because he'd never had one himself. Alec's muscles tensed wherever Magnus went; his belly-button wasn't an exception.

Magnus took a moment to draw his fingertips over Alec's erection through his pants, watching his face for his reaction. His teeth went to bite down on his lower lip; his eyes fluttered closed, before opening again to stare down at Magnus, passion and lust burning deep within.

He wasted no time in getting Alec's pants off. He forewent the magic, deciding not to risk startling Alec, and drew the black pants down his long legs and off. He didn't expect to see Alec with no undergarments on beneath. He raised his eyebrows at the Shadowhunter, a grin playing on the corners of his lips.

Alec shrugged. "I was out hunting with my parabatai before I came to the restaurant. Undergarments don't exactly feel comfortable under gear."

The grin spread right across Magnus' face. "I'm not complaining."

Magicking away his own pants and undergarments with one hand, Magnus placed the other on Alec's hip, dipped his head, and ran his tongue along Alec's erection, from base to tip. Alec's entire body tensed, and he let out a low, shuddering moan, eyes closed and head tossed back. Magnus couldn't help but stare at this beautiful, beautiful man he had in his bed. How had nobody ever noticed Alec before? How could this be the first time he'd done this? He was twenty years old, he'd said, and had never attracted the attention of another man before? Magnus couldn't comprehend it. Then, he also couldn't comprehend why humans thought it their business to judge what other people did in their bedrooms and with whom, but most of them did.

He placed both hands on Alec's hips, running his fingers lightly up and down as he took the head of Alec's erection into his mouth, sucking, swiping his tongue over the head. Alec's fisted a hand in Magnus' hair, not pushing or pulling or grabbing, just responding.

Magnus decided to up his game. He parted his lips and slid his head down, encasing Alec's erection in the hot cavern of his mouth. Centuries of sexual experience had left him quite accomplished at this task, and Alec certainly seemed to be enjoying it, judging by the low moans coming from his throat.

Magnus ran his tongue down the ridge of Alec's shaft as he moved his head slowly. Alec stiffened above him. Magnus knew what was coming—Alec was a virgin and barely more than a teenager, so he hadn't expected anything else. It would have been very unfair to expect anything else.

"Stop," Alec gasped, pushing on hand against Magnus' shoulder, chest rising and falling much faster than it had been. "Magnus– Stop."

Magnus paused, but did as Alec had asked. "Alec—"

"Don't embarrass me," he whispered.

Magnus eyed the stamina rune drawn on Alec's hip. "You're a young man with a stamina rune, Alec. I won't be embarrassing you."

And, ignoring Alec's weak protests, Magnus engulfed Alec's erection again, moving up and down steadily, not fast, tongue flicking out to tease over the head every time he came up.

It wasn't long before Alec let out a particularly loud, strained groan of 'Angel, Magnus', stiffened all over, and shot warm, hot liquid into his mouth. Magnus swallowed everything Alec gave him, stroking his fingers over his thighs comfortingly as he did so.

He watched Alec in his post-orgasmic bliss for several seconds: the way his chest rose and fell, the way his eyes remained closed, savouring those moments of pure pleasure, the soft red tint on his milky-white cheeks, his slightly-parted lips, still swollen from all their earlier kisses.

Finally, Alec opened his eyes. He looked down at Magnus, a soft look covering his face. Without a word (though, really, words weren't needed just then) he cupped a hand around Magnus' neck and drew him up.

Magnus expected a kiss. What he got was Alec's tongue flicking carefully over the corner of his mouth; it took Magnus a moment to realise why. When it hit him that Alec had cleaned off the remains of his orgasm from Magnus' lips, he felt hot all over, suddenly very aware of his own straining erection.

And then he got his kiss. Soft at first, heating up quickly to a blaze of sheer passion, lips and teeth and tongues battling, neither settling for the role of submissive until Alec rolled them over again (Magnus simply had to learn how to preempt that) and moved down Magnus' body with a determined expression on his face.

Alec licked and nipped and kissed all over Magnus' chest, tracing all the same paths with his mouth that he'd travelled earlier with his hands. Magnus' lips parted when Alec paid particular attention to that sensitive spot by his hip. He let out a breathy sigh that would ordinarily have made him cringe, but controlling himself around Alec was an impossible task.

Alec seemed to be stalling for time; hesitating, summoning the courage to move down further to where they both wanted his lips to be. Magnus would have stopped him again, made sure that he wasn't pushing himself to do something he didn't genuinely want, but for the ardent look on the Nephilim's face. So instead, Magnus reached down and ran his fingers through Alec's hair, attempting to reassure him without the need for verbalisation.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Alec admitted. "Just so you know."

It wasn't the first time someone had said that to Magnus. Far from it. And it wouldn't be the first time that the open-ended words of instruction rose onto the tip of his tongue. But before he could speak any of them, Alec had a hand around his length, and Magnus let out a choked sound at finally, finally, being touched, after so much kissing and loving and caressing.

Alec's blue eyes stared up at him, assessing his reaction. "Tell me what's good and what's not."

Magnus could have told Alec that he'd worked him up so much that just his hand around him like that felt like heaven. He could have told him that a single look from those amorous eyes made his stomach curl. He could have told him that there was essentially nothing he could do that wouldn't be phenomenal. He could have told him that everything about him was surprising and new and unfamiliar but so, so sensual.

The words were never spoken, though. Because Magnus couldn't say all that to a near-stranger - despite how he felt like he'd known Alec for more than a few hours - and because Alec had his lips wrapped around the head of Magnus' erection, and he felt like he was about to explode.

Alec had one hand around the base of Magnus' cock as he slid his mouth further down, tongue swirling and teasing and exploring and taking his time. Magnus was torn between throwing his head back and moaning, and just staring into Alec's eyes like they held every answer to every question in the world. He ended up doing the later, Alec's name falling from his lips as a breathless prayer.

His heart tattooed a powerful rhythm against his ribcage as Alec bobbed his head up and down, moving his hand to Magnus' balls, caressing, tugging, evoking soft moans from between Magnus' lips.

The warlock couldn't take the sight of Alec below him, mouth wrapped around his cock, one hand stroking his inner thigh and the other on his balls, pupils dilated to the extent that the blue irises were all but entirely obscured. His cheeks were flushed, saliva just building at the corners of his mouth, expression all heavenly determination that rendered Magnus breathless.

But, unlike Alec, he didn't have a stamina rune.

"Alec—"

He cut himself off with a gasp as Alec hollowed out his cheeks, creating the most pleasure-inducing suction around his burning erection. He fisted both hands in the sheets, back arched a little, the tendons in his neck straining as his mouth fell open in a mindless, soundless scream.

It took him a few seconds to pull his thoughts back. In fact, it took him until Alec moved his mouth off his cock to regain his breath, replacing his delectable lips with a roughened hand.

"Come here," Magnus whispered, cupping a hand around Alec's neck. There were several marks on that milky-white skin, and the sight filled Magnus with relish.

Alec appeared anxious as he moved up without hesitation, bracing himself over Magnus on his forearms. Magnus knew what he'd asked before he even opened his mouth. It filled his heart with fondness, and, yes, a little exasperation. "I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"Alec," Magnus breathed. "Do I look like you did something wrong?"

Alec grinned a little, and shook his head.

Magnus tipped his head up and slanted his lips over Alec's, meeting him in a hungry kiss that stoked the heat building in his gut. Alec's hands fisted in his hair, and he moaned onto the Nephilim's lips. God knew he appreciated being man-handled once in a while.

Magnus pulled back from their kiss and brushed his lips over the shell of Alec's ear. "Tell me me you want me to do."

Alec let out a shuddering breath. "I'm in your hands."

God, was Alec giving Magnus free reign over his body? He didn't have a preference? Or perhaps he just didn't know—he doubted they covered homosexual sex in Shadowhunter lessons.

Magnus attached his lips to Alec's neck, sucking another mark into the pale skin right next to a swirling black rune. Alec arched his neck into the contact and whimpered as though Magnus had set his every nerve ending on fire with the touch. Magnus understood how he felt.

"Trust me," Magnus murmured, pulling his lips away.

"Yes." Alec spoke against Magnus' hair. "Yes."

Magnus rolled them over, straddled Alec's thighs, moved his hands to his hips, and pressed his lips back to Alec's. He knew that Alec was inexperienced, but he doubted he'd have too much of an issue with the discomfort he'd experience this way round—he was a Shadowhunter, after all. And Magnus wasn't in the mood for instruction.

Nevertheless, Magnus kept him distracted, working his body into a pliable, boneless mess of burning desire with his lips and tongue and teeth and hands, touching and caressing and scraping every surface he could reach.

When he had Alec writhing and moaning beneath him, Magnus snapped his fingers, summoning a sample of his personal favourite kind of oil. Messy, but there was no mess a warlock couldn't clean up.

Alec looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes when Magnus drew his lips away from him for a moment to stare at the exquisite beauty of Alexander Lightwood.

His kissed Alec's lips softly as he pushed the tip of a finger into him. Alec stilled, stiffening all over at what doubtless felt like a very foreign intrusion. Magnus ran his other hand up through Alec's hair and didn't break the kiss; Alec's body relaxed under his touch, so Magnus pushed in further.

Alec let out a breath against his lips, trembling a little under Magnus' ministrations. Magnus paused for a moment, pulling away from the kiss - he didn't want Alec to be in unnecessary pain - but realised that he'd read the situation wrong when Alec pushed his head back into the pillows and let out a moan. He pushed his hips forward; Magnus took the hint.

"Are you okay?" Magnus asked with one finger fully inside, searching Alec's face, all flushed, lips slightly parted, eyes almost closed.

Said eyes opened to reveal swirling blue pools of desire that made Magnus all too aware of how aroused he himself was. He swallowed the groan that wanted to spill from his own lips.

Alec nodded, rocked his hips again, spurring Magnus to begin moving his finger, slowly. He circled his finger, then slid in and out, all tentative, slow touches. The most gorgeous sound erupted from Alec in response.

Magnus inserted a second finger on his next dive in. Alec seemed to be so far gone that he barely noticed it, eyebrows merely furrowing for a split second before his face relaxed and Magnus continued his movements. Magnus briefly wondered whether Shadowhunter training had given Alec a high pain threshold in all things.

Magnus stared at Alec, who had his eyes closed. In that moment, he thought the Shadowhunter was the most beautiful and erotic thing he'd ever witnessed: Alec all full of passion and pleasure, submissive below him despite the way he could throw Magnus around like he weighed nothing, was damn near perfect-looking.

He circled his fingers again, searching for the spot that would tug another one of those heavenly sounds from Alec. Alec's jaw slacked, his lips opened to let lose a moan, and his eyes rolled back in his head. Magnus' cock twitched in response, and he had to force himself not to thrust down against Alec's hip like a virginal teenager.

As Magnus grazed that bundle of nerves with the pad of his finger again, Alec's back arched. His eyes fluttered open, and he gazed at Magnus with something akin to desperation. "Magnus," he breathed. "I...please, just—"

Magnus understood. He withdrew his fingers, and snapped his fingers to slick up his cock. He hovered over Alec, just watching his face as he balanced himself above him.

"Magnus," Alec whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek, his lips, his hair. "Magnus."

"Alexander," Magnus murmured in response, and pressed his forehead against Alec's. Alec's eyes didn't shift from his as they stayed pressed together for a few seconds. Magnus took it as his cue to line himself up and slowly push inside.

God. Magnus felt like he was forcing his cock into a vice. That had to be more painful that Alec was making it out to be. Had he made a terribly selfish choice to do it this way round?

He couldn't ignore how fucking good it felt. He felt like he just wanted to thrust himself all the way in and pound into Alec over and over and over again; move those slender legs up to get at a better angle; enjoy the most pleasurable of nights with Alec. He was dying to move.

He he didn't. It was agony to stay still, but he wouldn't move. Not yet.

Alec had his jaw clenched, eyes closed, and Magnus really wasn't very far inside. He stilled his hips and propped himself up on his forearms so he could pass gentle fingers across Alec's cheek.

His voice came out strained when he spoke. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Alec said, breath coming out in a whoosh. He reopened his eyes almost shyly. "It's okay. You can- you can move."

Magnus heart pounded against his chest at those words accompanied by that coy look. He pushed his hips forward, slowly, steadily, and Alec didn't flinch.

His hip bones met Alec's. He halted his movements, but Alec had other ideas. He rolled his hips, just a tiny, tiny movements, but it drew out waves of delicious sensation.

"Alec," Magnus groaned. Alec's blue eyes darkened with lust at the sound, and he rolled his hips again, the movement bigger, surer. "God," Magnus choked out. "Alec...god."

Then Alec clenched his stomach muscles. Magnus cried out, barely hearing Alec's moan as his hips jerked out and back in again quickly.

"Yes," Alec hissed. "Magnus, please, please."

Magnus began to slide his hips in and out, pace slow, and lowered his lips to devour Alec's mouth. He pulled out every stop he had, and the Shadowhunter replied in kind. One hand clutched Magnus' hip, prompting him to move faster.

Magnus obliged. The sounds falling form their lips were uncontrolled, animalistic, causing shivers to wrack up and down Magnus' body as his hips thrust with increasing force.

Magnus was about ready to explode. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so soul-deep in pleasure, passion, from head to toe. He didn't understand why this young Shadowhunter evoked all these long-buried feelings, but the sensation of Alec stretched around him, clenched down on his length, was enough to make him want to scream.

"Alec...Alec..." Magnus couldn't form coherent thoughts, much less put them into words. The pleasure surging through his body was a full-body assault, diving into the deepest depths of his mind, too.

He needed to do get Alec closer. He couldn't finish before Alec, even if the Shadowhunter had already peaked once. He couldn't. So Magnus pushed Alec's knees back, enabling him to hit straight onto the sweet spot inside Alec.

"Oh my god, Magnus!" Alec cried, both hands sliding up to grip the sweaty hair at the nape of Magnus' neck. "Oh...please!"

The next time Magnus thrust in, he paused and circled his hips, reducing Alec to a quivering jumble of incoherent phrases spewing from between those delicious lips. He leant forward a little, trapping Alec's erection between their bodies, stimulating his lover's body in all his most sensitive places. Magnus was desperate to kiss him, but their movements were too wild, too uncontrolled, their bodies too far gone.

A particularly firm stroke had both of them moaning—Magnus wasn't sure he'd ever made a sound like that in his life.

Alec's eyes fixated on his as the sound came from between his lips, and then his back arched, his head was thrown back, his eyes rolled, and Magnus' name came from between his lips in a continuous cry, waves upon waves of ecstasy flowing through him, pleasure painted onto his face and hot liquid shooting between their bodies as evidence.

It was enough. Every muscle in Alec's body contracted and released over and over and over again, pulling the release Magnus had been holding off all night.

He shot inside Alec, forehead pressed into the pillow beside his lover, moaning Alec's name hoarsely, repeatedly as those same waves of sheer euphoria surged through him with tidal force.

He was vaguely aware of finger raking through his damp hair as he all but collapsed atop Alec as his arms gave out. An arm slid around his waist as the final shudders of pleasure ran through him, his mind still stuck up on cloud nine.

His breaths were shaky as he came down. When had he last let himself go like that? And during a one night stand, no less? He swallowed. He'd sworn that he was done dating for the moment, and here he was having mind-blowing sex that felt meaningful, even if it meant nothing.

Lips pressed against his neck, and, all at once, he remembered that he wasn't alone, that Alec had never done that before, and that he couldn't space out on him again after that.

He pulled himself together, and rolled over onto his side, still pressed close to Alec. The Shadowhunter let out a breath Magnus hadn't noticed him holding when the warlock slid an arm around him, and his tense body relaxed.

Magnus kissed Alec, lips soft, tender, trying to express with a single kiss what he couldn't bring himself to in words. Alec gripped him tightly, turning his body so they were facing each other. When their lips parted, they stayed close, hot breaths mingling in the cool night air.

"Okay?" Magnus asked softly, opening his eyes to look at Alec.

Alec nodded, eyes just as soft as Magnus felt. "More than."

Magnus smiled. "Me too."

He didn't even think about pulling Alec close, tucking his head under his chin, their arms encircling each other. He snapped his fingers to pull the comforter from underneath them, and drew it around himself and Alec. He felt the Shadowhunter's smile against his neck, his heartbeat gradually slowing into a steady rhythm against his chest, the tickle of his soft hair against his face.

He pressed a kiss to Alec's head; lips pressed against his neck in response. Magnus smiled to himself. Words, for once, weren't needed.

Alec's breaths became steady, minutes, hours later, Magnus didn't know. He couldn't stop thinking about how much he didn't want this to be another fling that he'd have forgotten in a few months. He didn't want Alec to become another nameless, blurry face that he could no longer conjure up in his mind, could no longer remember.

He wanted more, he realised. He didn't know how much more. He wanted to get to know him better. He wanted to hear those stories that Alec had said were for 'another time'. He wanted to tell Alec a few of his own.

As he thought of their conversations so much earlier that evening, of all that Alec said, of all the ways the Shadowhunter had surprised and astonished and awed him, he found himself hoping. Hoping that, perhaps, there was something to be found in Alec Lightwood, despite the tumultuous times for people like them in mundane - and Shadowhunter - society.

Magnus settled against Alec, letting the tension leave his body. If this went anywhere, if it was meant to go anywhere, they could work things out. Maybe not forever, maybe not even for long, but Magnus was loathe to let go of the little slice of perfection he'd found in Alexander Lightwood.

With that thought, he closed his eyes, revelling in the warmth emitted from the beautiful man next to him. He let Alec's steady breaths lull him to sleep, a pair of expressive blue eyes shadowing over his dreams.


	7. Day 6: Gender or Body-Swap Day

When Alec awoke, the first thing he felt was exceptionally disorientated. He wasn't really sure why. He was in Magnus' - no, their - bed, sunlight just attempting to break through the blinds into the room, an arm around his waist.

He blinked, and frowned. He'd come home late the night before, after a gruelling fight with a hoard of Ravener demons, and had been so tired that he'd barely summoned the energy to strip out of his gear and climb into bed. He'd left it all strewn across the floor, too exhausted to care that Magnus would chastise him for it in the morning.

But his gear was nowhere to be seen.

Then another odd thing struck Alec. Magnus felt cold. Not freezing, and it was November, but Magnus was a perpetual inferno—he and his magic warmed Alec up during cold winter nights.

Just to add to the list of strange things, his head was pounding. Jesus. Alec scrubbed a hand across his eyes—

And stared. He blinked furiously, shook his head, and looked at his hand again.

Or, rather, not his hand. His hand wasn't honey-brown, his hand was covered in scars and callouses, and his fingernails most definitely weren't painted neon green.

He sat up abruptly, the comforter pooling around his waist. He stared down at his body. Magnus' body. He ran a hand down his stomach, fingers lingering in shock at the spot where there should have been a navel—a spot he knew very well, but from a very different angle.

He turned to the sleeping form beside him, and nearly jumped out of his at the sight of his own face wearing the expression Magnus usually wore when he slept. Alec stared at himself - at Magnus? - fascinated. He looked so different through Magnus' eyes. It was like all the flaws that he hated had somehow become endearing, or beautiful, or even just weren't there at all.

But how the hell had this happened? If Magnus had been doing experimental magic again, Alec was going to kill him.

"Magnus," Alec hissed, reaching out a manicured hand to shake his boyfriend. He choked when he realised that he was speaking with Magnus' voice. Angel, could it get any weirder? "Wake up."

Magnus, in Alec's body, opened his eyes blearily, his expression dazed. "Alec, what— Oh my god."

Alec pulled a face as he heard his own voice spoken in Magnus' familiar tones. It felt strange, pulling expressions that came so naturally to him on someone else's face. They didn't quite feel right. "Please tell me you can fix this. In fact, no. Please tell me how this happened in the first place."

Magnus sighed, and flopped back. "I may have been drunk last night."

Alec stared at him, incredulous. "You what?"

"I was drunk." Magnus waved a dismissive hand, but paused mid-dismissive-flick, as though he, like Alec, noticed how strange the gesture appeared coming from Alec's body. Well, at least Alec understood why he - or, rather, Magnus' body - had a pounding headache now. He had a hangover.

Alec fixed Magnus with a stern look. "Magnus. Why were you drunk, and how has that lead to me being in your body?"

"I missed you," Magnus murmured, looking up at him with sad blue eyes. On an ordinary day, when Magnus looked at him with his own entrancing eyes and that expression, Alec's heart might have softened. As it was, seeing it on his own face lessened the effect. "You've been so busy, and you stayed at the Institute for the past few nights." He shrugged. The delicate gesture from his body made Alec want to cringe. "I just wanted a distraction."

Alec sighed, and reached out a hand to twine his fingers through Magnus'. Or, rather, his. "I'm sorry, Magnus. I didn't mean to abandon you."

"It's okay," he said. "We have busy lives. Don't feel bad."

"So you did magic drunk?" Alec guessed, raising his eyebrows. Huh. That expression felt much more effective on Magnus' face than his own.

Magnus nodded, and strands of Alec's hair fell into his eyes. Magnus pushed them aside with far less impatience than Alec always did. Alec felt the strangest urge to run his fingers through that hair - his hair - and feel the soft strands between his fingers.

Apparently, regardless of their swapped status, some more basic imprints had been left behind. Because Alec had never looked into a mirror and just stared at his own eyes before as he was now. He couldn't even begin to describe how strange the sensation was.

"I think so," Magnus said. "I was reading something. I left it out. I can check. Either I was very, very drunk, or it went wrong."

A horrible thought struck Alec. "Hang on. This isn't permanent, is it?"

"No. I'd be completely drained if it were. Do you feel drained?"

Alec furrowed his eyebrows. Another expression that seemed...different. "No. I don't think so. I've just got a hangover. Or you've got a hangover. Oh, Angel, this is impossible." He sighed, and flopped back against the pillows beside Magnus.

Magnus smiled. Alec really hoped the tiny twinge in his gut at that expression was a Magnus-response, not an Alec-response.

"It should wear off, then," Magnus said.

"How long?"

"A few hours, probably. No more than a day, I'd guess." A strange look came over Magnus' face. He propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at Alec, raking his eyes up and down, scrutinising his face and his chest and torso and stomach, down to his prominent hip bones, when the comforter prevented his eyes searching any further.

Alec didn't want to know what Magnus was thinking. "Great," he huffed. "I can't just become the High Warlock of Brooklyn for a day. I can't act like you."

Magnus shrugged. "You don't need to. I haven't got any appointments today."

Alec let out a breath of relief. "Oh, thank the Angel for that."

"Can you feel my magic?" Magnus asked, clearly curious.

"I don't know. How do I tell?"

Magnus looked a little disappointed. "You'd notice it. It'd feel different. It's strange not to feel it." He paused, eyes searching out something on the body which Alec was currently inhabiting. Whatever it was, Alec couldn't see it.

Then he saw the time. His eyes widened. "Crap. Magnus, I– No, you need to go."

Magnus frowned. "Why? Go where?"

"The Institute. The others are all meeting to train now."

Magnus' eyes widened. "Alec, I can't train! I'm not a Shadowhunter! I don't know how to shoot arrows or man-handle Jace or stab your sister or whatever it is you do. Besides, your body hurts. What did you do to yourself last night?"

"I honestly can't remember."

Magnus looked pleadingly at Alec. "Let me make up an excuse. I am not submitting myself to Shadowhunter training when I already feel like I - you - need a hot bath that lasts and hour and a full-body massage. Then maybe another bath for good measure."

Alec chewed on his lip. "I don't know. What excuse are you giving?"

"What gets me out of training?"

"Dying?" Alec suggested wryly.

"I feel like I'm dying," Magnus moaned, always one for drama. "Honestly, Nephilim, you need to have a little more respect for your body. And a more sensible pain threshold, clearly." He scowled. Alec smothered a laugh. That expression suited his face perfectly.

"Alright. Give me my phone." Alec held out a hand, trying to come up with a decent excuse to send to his sister. In the end, he just told her that there was an 'emergency'. It wasn't a lie.

* * *

Magnus stood leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, while Alec used the bathroom. He wondered whether Alec would notice that he'd been sneaky and used just a touch of make-up: a little eyeliner, a tiny bit of eyeshadow, just a touch of glitter... It was perfect.

Yet, Magnus hadn't been able to shake the very strange feeling he'd had when he looked in that mirror to apply a small portion of his large array of cosmetics to Alec's beautiful face. He'd noticed all those flaws that Alec complained about. He'd noticed them before, of course, but they'd never been flaws, they'd just been a part of Alec; a bit of the beauty that made up his whole.

When Alec reappeared in the kitchen, he was dressed in a pair of sweatpants that were clearly Magnus', as they didn't have any holes in them, and a sweater that was most definitely Alec's for the opposite reason. Alec's - no, Magnus' - face was devoid of any make-up, his hair lacking any product, and Magnus couldn't help the little smile that appeared on his face at the raw, vulnerable appearance.

Was that really how Alec saw him? All perfect beauty, even more so when it was barred plainly like that, with nothing to cover himself up? And god, did Alec, a Shadowhunter, a Lightwood by birth and by name, really see his eyes in that way? How could a constant reminder of his demonic side be so beautiful to a man part angel?

Magnus swallowed, feeling strangely humbled as he experienced just touches of Alec's emotions. He stepped towards him and reached a hand up to cup his cheek, searching, like he had before, for something that wasn't there. He didn't look at himself like this in a mirror, didn't think of himself like this. He wasn't flawless. He wasn't perfect. Not in the way he appeared through Alec's eyes.

"I love you," Magnus whispered.

Alec frowned a little. "I love you," he repeated. "Magnus—" He hesitated.

"What is it?"

"Do you really...do you really see me like this?" Alec looked half nervous, half awed, looking at his own face in the way Magnus had been staring at his.

"Yes," Magnus whispered, looking up just that inch or so that was the height difference between them. It felt strange to be the shorter of the pair. "Yes." He remembered what he'd been most uncomfortable with when he'd looked into the mirror at Alec's body earlier. "Don't hate your scars, Alec. Don't hate anything about yourself."

Alec shook his head. "I don't hate my scars. I'm a warrior. They're the marks to prove that I've been in battle, that my job is to help save mundane lives and keep the peace. I don't exactly love them, but I don't hate them. Not anymore."

Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Anymore?"

"I never really thought about them until I met you. Everyone I knew was covered in scars. But you weren't. And you were looking at every inch of me, telling me that I was beautiful, and I was covered in scars. You weren't. You were flawless. But you made me believe that they're part of who I am, and not a part to be ashamed of."

Magnus couldn't help the soft smile that spread across his face. Strange as it seemed, he linked his hands behind the neck that was, for the moment, Alec's, and kissed him. It was a careful kiss, both tentative, but Magnus felt the same love coming from and for Alec as he always did.

"I have another question," Alec said when they parted.

"Mhm?"

"You don't like your eyes."

Magnus didn't refute the statement. He didn't like his eyes. Like Alec had said about his scars, he didn't hate them, but he hated what they reminded him of. He hated that his eyes had caused the death of his parents. He hated that his eyes were the mark of everything evil in him. He hated that his eyes told everyone else that he was the devil's child.

Alec's - his - fingers brushed against his cheek. "Magnus," he whispered.

Magnus leant into the touch a little, and studied his own eyes in a way he never had before. He realised how Alec looked at them, and his breath caught. A mark of strength, of power; exotic, beautiful. There was a slight hint of sadness there somewhere at the reminder of Magnus' immortality, but it was far back.

"If it makes any difference," Alec said, "I think you know how I feel about those eyes."

Magnus nodded. "I do now."

* * *

It was late that evening, when Alec was asleep, head in Magnus' - his - lap while Magnus continued reading through the book he'd been looking at the previous night that the warlock felt the tingles in his - Alec's - fingertips.

Magic.

And, mere seconds later, he found himself rolling off the sofa. He fell onto the floor with a thud, disorientated, and blinked, confused for a moment. He held up both hands, and grinned when he saw his own familiar hands.

"Magnus?" Alec asked, in his own, beautiful voice. "Why are you on the floor?"

"You were asleep, in my body, when we switched back. It was a bit of a shock." He looked up and smiled widely at Alec, his Alec, in the right body. It had been interesting, certainly, with some unexpected perks, but he wanted to look at and love those blue eyes, not see all the imperfections that Alec saw in himself.

He hauled himself up, back onto the sofa, and snatched away the book lying in Alec's lap. He straddled his Shadowhunter's thighs, slid his hands into his hair, and kissed him, not and hard and needy in the way he'd wanted to all day, but couldn't.

"Please," Alec said when they parted for a breathless second, "never do that again."

Magnus raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What, kiss you?"

Alec rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean."

"I think you might have to be a little more specific," Magnus murmured, brushing his lips over Alec's earlobe.

Alec growled low in this throat, and when he spoke, his voice was rough and raw and dominant. "I'll show you specific, Magnus Bane. You put eyeliner on me."

So he had noticed. Magnus couldn't help smirking at him. Alec narrowed his eyes, danger and passion flashing across his face, before Magnus found himself flat on his back, wrists pinned above his head.

Oh, Magnus couldn't wait to see where this would go.


	8. Day 7: Extra TV Show Scene Day

**Set during CoG, right after the Shadowhunters and Downworlders mark each other. Magnus is going to open a Portal onto Brocelind Plain to let them through to fight Valentine.**

* * *

Alec felt the weight of the weapons covering his body - twin seraph blades in his belt, knives and daggers hanging around his hips, his bow and quiver slung across his back - the sting of all the new Runes covering his body, the soft pressure of Magnus' hand in his.

One Rune in particular weighed him down and lifted him up all at once. The one burning into the back of his hand; the one Magnus had drawn on him with slow, steady hands. The one whose twin was seared into the warlock's skin.

Alec glanced across at Magnus. He looked so different to normal. Gone was the glitter and the make-up, and in its place was a somber ensemble consisting mostly of black, and a grim expression covering his face.

Alec hadn't left Magnus' side since their rather public display earlier. He didn't regret what he'd done, but neither did he think that right before a battle was the time to discuss his dating habits with his parents. So he'd stayed with his boyfriend, attempted to ignore the whispers (which had quickly ceased due to the impending battle) and avoided his parents. He'd caught Isabelle's eye from across the room, and she'd smiled widely at him.

Magnus seemed to be searching for someone. Alec followed Magnus' gaze and saw Luke standing with Jocelyn, Clary, and, to his surprise, Raphael, apparently discussing something in heated tones. Clary was glaring, Jocelyn staring at Raphael with icy coldness, and the vampire watched them all with his usual mixture of superiority and distaste.

With a sigh, Magnus looked away, shifting, his hand slipping from where it had been encasing Alec's to tug thorough his hair. Alec realised, with a jolt of surprise, that Magnus was on-edge. Magnus, fearless and flamboyant and fabulous Magnus, was nervous, distracted.

It reminded Alec of the three things that had happened since he'd been in Alicante that had set his brain whirring. In that alley, the first time he'd seen Magnus for far too long, the warlock and told him that he loved him. Alec's immediate thought had been to reject the notion - how could Magnus love him? The idea was absurd. But then, as he thought over everything Magnus had done for them, he'd realised that maybe he was telling the truth.

Then Clary had drawn that Rune. Alec had nearly jumped out of his skin when he'd seen Magnus standing in place of the skinny red-headed girl, until he'd looked across to where Magnus had been, and realised what was happening.

He couldn't deny what was staring him right in the face.

And then he'd outed himself in such a ridiculous way, kissing Magnus in front of everyone, partnering with him in the battle... Alec hardly knew himself anymore. He didn't do those things. And yet, it also filled him with a slight sense of self-pride.

Alec had no idea what time it was. He knew that they'd be making their way to Brocelind Plain through a Portal just before midnight to meet Valentine's demon army. He knew he'd be one of the first through, as Magnus would create the Portal.

And he knew that he could well be dead by the time the sun rose again. He could so very easily die in this battle, even if he had the High Warlock of Brooklyn by his side and his magic at his disposal. Alec was certain that any kind of magic he used wouldn't be anywhere near what Magnus could cast, though his self-healing abilities would likely come in handy.

Looking around, Alec felt determination set in his gut. The same kind of determination that had been in him when he'd fought with Magnus, when he'd marked and kissed him. But he didn't want to do this in public.

He caught Magnus' forearm, making the warlock look at him. "Magnus."

The warlock quirked an eyebrow. "Alexander."

Alec swallowed. "I need to tell you something."

Magnus nodded. "Go on."

"Not here. Can we go outside?"

Magnus frowned a little. "Alec, I have to open the portal to—"

"I know," he said quickly. "It won't take long, I promise."

"Alright. Is everything okay?"

Alec began to pull Magnus through the crowd. He sent him an amused look over his shoulder as he headed towards the door, thankful that neither of his parents were anywhere near them. "Valentine is about to summon an army of demons, but that's not really bothering me."

He could feel Magnus' stare as they broke through the people and out into the cool night. "Are you feeling okay?"

Alec felt the jovial feeling flood out of him. He looked up at the clear sky, stars twinkling, and nodded once. He kept his hand on Magnus', their fingers linked together. A breeze floated through the air, stirring Alec's hair.

He looked over at Magnus, to find the warlock watching him with a mixture of curiosity and longing and something deeper on his face. Alec's heart ached. How had it taken him so long to realise what Magnus really meant to him?

"Magnus," he murmured, turning to face him.

Magnus reached up and ran his fingers down Alec's cheek. "What is it?"

Alec took a deep breath, taking both Magnus' hands in his. A tiny voice in the back of his head told him that this was a bad idea, that Magnus couldn't possibly have meant it, that he'd finish the conversation embarrassed and upset. But he didn't pay it any attention.

"I love you," he said, with conviction, squeezing the warlock's hands a little in emphasis. "I love you, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for taking so long to realise it, I'm sorry for how I treated you, I'm sorry for acting like you were a dirty secret that I was ashamed of—though I swear, I was never ashamed of you, it's just—"

Magnus placed one long, slender finger over his lips. "Sh. Don't be sorry. It's okay."

Alec felt suddenly shy and guilty. He flushed a little at the look in Magnus' eyes: all passionate and tender and...loving. "But—"

Magnus removed his finger and replaced his with his lips. Alec clutched at the collar of Magnus' long cost as the warlock's arms came tight around his waist, and he let out a shaking breath against Magnus' lips. He could feel the heat rolling off the warlock, and he pulled them closer, wanting more of the indescribable feeling flooding through him. Love.

Magnus pulled away, and rested their foreheads together. His eyes were still closed, his breathing uneven. His eyelids fluttered back to reveal those exotic gold-green eyes that Alec could stare at all day, shining with emotions that Alex couldn't even begin to guess at.

"I love you," Magnus murmured, pulling back a little too look him right in the eyes. "I love you, Alexander Lightwood."

Alec smiled. He felt like he couldn't say it enough. "I love you, too, Magnus Bane. And I know we might be dead by tomorrow, but—"

Magnus shook his head, and brushed a strand of hair back from Alec's face. "We won't die. We're allied. We'll win, Alec." He swallowed visibly. "Don't say we might die. We won't. Just tell me you love me."

The love welling in his chest physically hurt. He pulled Magnus close and crushed their lips together again, this time with desperation. "I do," he whispered between kisses. "I do love you. I love you."

"I will never get tired of hearing that," Magnus murmured.

They held each other, no space between them as they stood in the cold night. A huge battle looked over them, but all Alec could focus on was the remarkable man in front of him. The man he loved, and who loved him back.


End file.
